


Curses and Miracles

by PaperRamen



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Compliant, Gen, Mild Language, Minor Character Death, Not Beta Read, OC suffers basically, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Supernatural Elements, Trauma, We Die Like Men, at least for the first chapter, by like 3 or so years, people get a little more roughed up here than in the show
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-01 17:22:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 21,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23560747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PaperRamen/pseuds/PaperRamen
Summary: A young man finds himself to be the successor to his grandfather's Miraculous, an accursed thing carved from the darkest thoughts of mankind.
Comments: 6
Kudos: 9





	1. A Feast in Silence

**Author's Note:**

> For Ellie, sorry I wasn't able to write that fluff Ladrien fic in time.  
> And this is more of a practice in long-form stories, enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where a young man inherits a curse.

Once upon a time, in a quiet night in Paris, a boy rested peacefully by the foot of a bed that once belonged to his grandfather. Once, he was all that boy ever looked forward to. Once, his mind was filled with all the stories he shared, it colored his childhood with many a sleepless night. Each tale would have always been told in that 'special' way, making each time his grandfather told it the last. The boy didn't know it, however. All the little details just built on each other in his head, making his grandfather' world even clearer.

He was once a king, or so he once said. He did not have a castle, however, which was strange enough in itself. All kings had to have castles. Not only that, he did not have any subjects or servants either! It was very strange. What was a king without people to follow him? All his grandfather had was his crown and his scarf to proclaim himself as king, and people accepted it. 

It was a stranger time back then.

As king, he would always wander around the countryside, never staying long, and always greeting others with a smile. Those stranger times were very unkind, however, and it made monsters out of the most virtuous of men. But as king, his grandfather would always greet them properly, in hopes of somehow reaching the person trapped within whatever monster they've become. It always worked out well enough, or so his grandfather once said. If it didn't, the boy wouldn't even know about it.

Or, rather, there wouldn't be a boy to tell the story to in the first place.

They enjoyed a peaceful life, despite being on their own. There were parents, all boys and girls have parents, but they seldom came to visit their home. Once they finalised plans for his grandfather to stay and be cared for, they were off to see the world. A life such as this had its ups and downs, as life does, and though it wasn't the most ideal, they trudged on all the same.

In fact, and this was a point of joy for him, the boy remembered only one time that his grandfather had shouted at him in anger. It was a chilly night and the boy saw his grandfather's favourite scarf draped across the chair. He knew, in the way children know everything, that it was warm, he saw him to everywhere with it and so, he reached out to warm himself up as well.

But, as with all things that have passed, this was long ago now. As the days passed his grandfather spent more time resting and regaining his strength, and the more colorful and sad did his stories become. They all were about that damned scarf.

For it ate emotions. Not happy ones, no. It only ate the vilest and most wretched of thoughts. It swallowed them down and removed them from this world, leaving mens hearts light and pure as the day they were born, but the hearts of men were easily corrupted, and no matter how much evil thoughts that scarf consumed, it never saved anyone.

As king, however, he had a responsibility to these nameless masses. These nameless, thankless masses. Once, during the especially darker stories, his grandfather ended it by cursing the very Earth itself for allowing such creatures to thrive. He cursed the crown that sunk deeper into his skin with every passing year, the crown he himself wrapped his temple with. He cursed his father, and his father before him, and so on, and he cursed Mankind itself for being born of evil. But, as with all things, this only happened once.

As fate would have it, his grandfather had reached death's door of his own accord. His life was long enough, and his deeds were done, but he still felt a pang of sadness echo through him.

The boy, now a young man, who once looked into his eyes with a smile now avoided them with a frown. There were some things that not even a king could alter. So, with a heavy sigh, the grandfather told the young man about his time as king, and of the scarf, while apologising all the while.

"For you see, that scarf bears the sins of the world, but don't be afraid of it. Go ahead, try it on. It's sure to fit, don't worry. It was always comfortable." he said with a forceful whisper. 

And the young man nearly stumbled with its weight.

"You'll get used to it..." he said with teary eyes. "You'll have to...for its power shall save the world from itself...I hope."

"You hope?" the young man asked. 

The old man sighed. "Tomorrow, I will awaken to a world that only knows how to love." the old man quoted himself. "That was my only hope for this world, and for you. But I see now that I shall never see that day, and so, though I do this with a heavy heart..."

"Twy." he commanded.

And out of the scarf came a small creature with pointed canid ears.

The young man stared in awe as it flitted around excitedly. It looked like a fairy from one of the tv shows he used to watch.

"Master!! It's been too long oh how old you've become not as old as me though--Oh! Do you smell that? It smells so lovely now where--" babbled the small...pixie? It spoke with the sweetest of voices.

"Twy.." said the old man, trying to get the thing's attention.

"Oh is this your grandson? Or - _gasp-_ is he the stranger who's killing you? Or are you just some random piece of shit who wandered into a dying man's hous--" said the thing with an unnerving glee. He stared into the young man with jet-black eyes. 

The young man's eyes widened in alarm. No animated fairy ever spoke like that. 

"Twy!" boomed the old man. It was enough for the strange thing to focus back on him.

"Yes? Emil?" It said with a smile. One good look at the grandfather, however, was enough to cause concern in its diminuative face. "Oh dear oh no no no...Already? It just felt like yesterday that your father gave you me..."

The old man sighed again. "If only I had known how heavy your crown would weigh, Twy, I would have thrown you into the lake..." He stared at the floating fairy for a while. "...no, what good is the past now...Twy, be polite, if you can, to your new master." 

The creature's eyes widened in surprise. It glanced between the two rapidly, waiting for someone to yell out 'Fooled you!!'

"Master?" the young man forced himself look at his grandfather. "You mean me?" 

The grandfather's heart grew heavier. This Miraculous only brought curses to its wearer, but he had to pass it on, just as his father did...and remembered the lie that he told him.

"If you want to, of course...Only if you want to..." And repeated them into the dead of the night. 

The young man dropped his gaze and examined the not-fairy. He was unnerved by this 'Twy.' There was an odd childhood familiarity he felt the more he looked at it...a strange mix of joyful sentimentality and sheer terror. It was like something deep inside him wanted to embrace it like a dear friend, but he also wanted to shove it into a box and lock it away deep inside the deepest of dungeons, away from the warmth of the sun and the curiosity of men.

However, to a casual onlooker, there was nothing particularly disgusting with Twy. It looked like a cheap plastic doll with its grey and brown 'skin.' Its head that looked too big for its body. And its limbs were barely as large as his pinky and looked far too fragile. With a glance, Twy was an exceptionally plain thing, but then the young man gazed into its pupiless eyes. Its dark unblinking eyes...He saw something _in_ their inky blackness that swirled and... _swam_ inside.

He blinked and Twy was suddenly inches from his face. The young man yelped in surprised and jerked back into chair behind him.

"Oh, Emil, are you sure this is your grandson? Are you sure your memories are still there?" asked Twy as it floated closer. "This thing doesn't resemble you at all! Look! He scares way too easily." It bared its diminuative fangs. "You never did that, Emil."

The young man massaged the sore in his back and forced himself to look at his grandfather. "He's real?" he said as both question and statement

Twy hovered in between his eyes, dodging the young man's hand as he tried swatting him away. He giggled at its futility and flew through his open palm and harmlessly phased through his head.

The young man threw himself into the wall behind him in alarm, earning another bruise to both body and ego.

"Forgive him," said the old man as Twy was rolling in the air in laughter, "He never took kindly to strangers. Not even me at first." and he faced Twy. "Do not worry, he is completely harmless."

Emil's brow furrowed. 

"Compared to the others..."

Twy turned away from the old man and huffed. It muttered indistinct curses to itself.

The young man found his voice at the bottom of his throat and asked. "Is this a fairy?" He leaned against the chair to support the growing weight on his shoulders.

Twy shot an awful glare at him.

"Call him a Kwami, Charles, it's his only source of pride." said Emil with a pitying tone. " He is a spirit of sorts, fashioned by an alchemist, or so he tells me."

"A Kwami?"

"The greatest genius in the world!!" interjected Twy. "They took the a part of the world's emotions and condensed them into what I am now. Also did the same for the others, Creation, Destruction, Bravery, Intuition, Salvation, Strength oh the list just goes on and on but who cares about them?" Twy sang out and made the scarf twirl and constrict around Charles' neck.

"Twy." Emil warned. The young man nearly stumbled again as he tried to claw the scarf off. It loosened immediately in his hands.

"Granfa--"

"Why him?!" shouted Twy. He stopped encircling the gasping young man and floated above the bed. "Why should HE be the next in line? Couldn't you have found someone else?!"

Charles took off the scarf and tossed it unceremoniously across the headrest beside him. "Grandfather," he said while Twy was quiet. "I think he _really_ doesn't like me in particular."

Emil waved it off. "He'll get used to you." he replied. "He was made from humanity's evil--its hatred, you see, and sees only that in people." 

"And how grossly pure you are." remarked Twy. "You're like a new born lamb virgin."

Charles forced himself to look at his waning grandfather. "And you're--"

"He's not a virgin, silly! You're here!!" chided Twy. "You and your poor excuse of a bloodline that only had good men and women. Oh what a waste..." He shook his head. "Two hundred years and not a single black sheep in your family for me to cherish...Do you know what that's like??" Purple flames illuminated the tips of his ears, "Do you!?" And deepened the shadows across the old man and Charles.

The old man wanted to say something, anything to steer back Twy's attention, he opened his mouth but all that came out was a hacking cough that left him doubling over in pain. Charles rushed to his side and offered the glass of water on the bedside table. "No." the old man refused. He cleared his throat as best as he could. "As Twy said, there are more like him and that scarf--trinkets, charms, talismans, what have you. That alchemist made too many of them, too many things to grant power to the unworthy..."

The fire in Twy's ears died down to a steady glow. There was a flash of worry in his eyes again. He hovered above Emil's chest. For the first time in his existence, Twy did not know what to do or say.

Emil paused and tried to remember more. "For the chosen ones, they allowed them to perform feats many would consider miracles, exactly like what Ladybug and Cat Noir achieve, Charles."

The revelation took Charles by surprise, he clearly never expected that someone as normal as his grandfather had the ability to transform into a hero. "That..." he pointed at the scarf. "That can turn you into a hero? That's what you meant when you said you were a king?"

"Yes, Charles, but why the face? Is it because I never jumped around in a spandex suit and saved the day? What kind of grandfather would I be if I were away?...Besides...Twy could never perform such miracles, no...All he can do is to attract curses...terrible, terrible curses..." Emil chuckled as he felt his soul sink deeper into himself. He stared into a dark corner of the room. "That's what makes him miraculous..."

Twy's stomach grumbled, snapping him out of it.

"Oh, dear Twy. You haven't eaten yet, have you?" asked the old man. A cough was building up in his throat again and he held it down as best as he could. "Worry not, once this is over, you'll be free to roam again."

Twy saw the question in Charles' eyes. "Oh! Worry not, young man, for my tastes are simply more...ephemeral, I won't die from starvation." He giggled. "All I need are the really bad emotionals. I suck them in and make everyone feel better because of it!" Twy clapped in mocking applause. "Yay me!!"

The old man raised a hand towards Twy. The kwami immediately flew towards it and rubbed its head against the gentle scratches. "Only the darkest of emotions," Emil struggled to say. "Twy only feeds on the darkest of human thoughts. It was difficult keeping him sated at first--But haha! God bless Paris!!" he exclaimed with hands raised. "Big cities are rife with all sorts of them, as you've probably noticed." He nodded to a picture on his desk. It was framed photograph of a swarm of purple butterflies in the vague shape of a human head. 

"That man, Hawkmoth, was proof that Paris was the perfect place for Twy, and the reason I was able to persist for so long." A shadow formed over his feature as he pulled his hand away from Twy. "I wanted you to live in a peaceful world that I helped create, Charles." he furrowed his brow. "Does that sound too selfish--no-It doesn't, does it?" the old man muttered to himself. "A miracle from a curse, can you believe it?"

"Yes, Granpa." Charles lied. These were the mutterings he had to get used to as the years wore on the old man. He remembered something his mother told him, once, that the last memory you should have of someone was of their smiling faces. He wasn't quite sure where it applied because it was in reply to a History lesson, but he found himself remembering it more and more now.

"Twy, he--he only knows how evil Man can be. Don't blame him, Charles. He was born from them." Emil turned to his grandson and lunged for his shirt, grabbing fistfuls of it with an iron grip. There was a sudden mad fire behind his eyes as he dragged himself up to face him. "He's a poor little Kwami who knows not of love, of kindness. They are but the plate where he rests his meal. Chilling anger, burning hate, those are all he can see in people. So please," Emil pulled him closer. "No matter how hard it shall be, please treat him kindly."

"I-I--" Charles stammered as he tried to calm him down. He steadied himself against he bedframe as his grandfather's grip tightened. The old man was scrambling up his shirt. "G-granpa--"

" _Only if you want to._ " quoted Twy, now lying down on the bed. "Two hundred years of hearing that and it still makes me smile." he sang. "Remember, Charles. **Only if you want to.** "

"Granpa!" He managed to get a hold of his arms. "What...what happens if I can't." asked Charles while he regained his balance. "What if I don't want to keep him."

The old man's grip weakened. He looked lost, like he was just woken up from a dream. Emil tried to remember why.

Twy smiled and floated to their faces. "Then I'll just eat people's badness and the whole world will live in peace!"

Charles stared at him. "and why is that--"

"Then the next master who takes me gets consumed by all the that evil that they burst into flames and burn an entire country to cinders and paint the skies black with its ashes." Twy giggled. If Charles had looked closer, he would have seen the contorted faces inside swirling mass of Twy's eyes for the briefest moment.

But Charles was busy guiding his grandfather back to his spot on the bed. It took a while for Emil to slowly slump back into his cushions. The old man stared at Twy as if he just appeared. 

"Oh! I have a song that can explain it better!" Twy had flown back to his scarf, ears aglow, and made it billow outwards. The unusual shadow play made the fabric look like the head of a wolf.

> He made a crude landscape in front of the head. "And the wolf hungered more; bloods of armies it drank; bones of mountains it bore; and islands it sank." sang Twy. 
> 
> And with his fire, he made a starry sky. "And the wolf hungered more; stars it gnawed; skies it tore; and great was its maw." The head lifted off a few feet from the ground. It almost reached the lights above it.
> 
> And with a frightening light, he made the wolf spit out purple flames from its mouth. "But the wolf hungered more; but none remained; it tore its belly; and ate again." The two saw nothing as the wolf sucked in all the embers it had produced and lunged for the fixture above, plunging the room into darkness.

Light slowly crept back, but an uncomfortable silence grew as the kwami kept giggling as he floated back down.

And, to the surprise of both, the old man laughed. And laughed. And laughed. Much to the dismay of the Kwami. "He always sings these songs to show off his lovely voice!" he smiled. "But no, without a master, all Twy would be is a lonely Kwami." Emil took a deep breath but it turned into the hacking cough. He blindly reached for the glass of water and struggled to take even a sip.

Emil breathed deep and swallowed his congestion. He leaned back against the pillows. He felt oddly lightheaded. "All he needs is a good friend, Charles." he spoke with a weak raspy voice. "Forget his powers, forget what he holds, it doesn't matter anymore...Find a quiet place, live a good life...."

Charles found it hard to look into his eyes again. He settled for a spot just to his side. "But...you said his power can save the world--"

"And is it saved?!" argued Emil through ragged breaths, he shot a glare at his grandson. "Does it feel saved? The world-- _cough_ \--is just as cursed as when I took on the mantle!" He tried to push himself upright. His breaths grew shallower, his arms shook violently. Charles tried to help him but the old man did not allow him.

A rush of wind flew past the young man. Twy had brought the scarf to Emil. "That's not true, Master!!" pleaded the kwami. He laid it across the old man's lap. "The world IS better now! Hawkmoth is just the death throes of...of..." he stammered. Twy had lost all excitement in his voice as he um'd and er'd to this next idea. For the second time, he was at a loss for words. "Don't leave me with him..."

But Emil had no reply. He simply stared at the accursed piece of cloth laid across him. Every breath felt like a struggle. It must have been the dust in the air. He felt the scarf between his fingers as his eyelids felt heavier. He should have just burned it with the rest. Every breath burned his throat. The sheets were too cold. 

The old man endeavored for one more look into his grandson's eyes. He wanted to tell him even more about Twy, but the night was catching up to him. It sang soft lullabies as he drifted into sleep. He leaned back against the headrest and shut his eyes, his breath growing shallower and shallower. All he wanted to do now was rest for a while. He would bring up Twy again in the morning, when they were both refreshed and fully awake. Maybe by then Charles would understand--or maybe not. He never wanted to force it on him, after all.

And in the still of the night, an old man whispered to no one as sleep overtook him.

"...Only if you want to..."

*

And so, once upon a time, a young man grieved at the foot of a bed in a dark room, his head stooped low in sorrow, his eyes filled with silent tears. He had heard his grandfather's last breath escape his body, his head tilted to the side, while his Kwami lay across his chest, muttering soft sweet curses as an elegy.

It was a cold night in Paris, Charles felt the air sting his tired eyes. He reached for his phone, he had to tell his parents like the resppnsible son that he was, but his finger hesitated above their contact details. Their latest portrait was taken at a beach somewhere, and their last text was a 'Merry Christmas!' with a cute cat themed emoji. 

He found the energy to type out a short message. Nothing elaborate or emotional, just a simple heads up. Doubt gnawed at the back of his mind on whether or not they would see it in time.

The silence was suddenly punctuated by the echoing thuds of heavy footfalls outside the window. Charles ignored it as he dialed the number for emergency services.

There it was again, those heavy noises. He turned the lights on and peered through the window. 

Twy's ears twitched. He had heard that sound before. It was a deep guttural roar of a creature born out of a misplaced anger. His ears pointed towards the window. Something was shambling outside the street as if it was chasing something. He removed himself from the tangle of the scarf and floated above Charles' shoulder. The streets below were the same orange hue they always were, but just beyond the rooftops of the other houses, he could hear all sorts of motors and brakes and screams of terror.

"Good evening, yes, no I'm fine, but--"

"--CULOUS.." A distant roar interrupted him. 

Twy giggled in curiosity. There was never a boring day in Paris ever since they arrived, seeing all the delightful things his fellow Kwamis have been causing made him well up with pride. He bet to himself that it was Duusu, that emotional rascal.

But why did he recognize it?

"What's with you, Twy?" asked Charles. His hand was blocking the microphone. "Haven't you eaten something yet?"

The kwami's eyes widened as he saw a glimpse of it. It was dark blue! That had to be Duusu's work!! He giggled even louder. It was chasing a motorcycle and a banana, as far as he could tell. And, oh! They were coming down this very road!

"Alright, thank you." said Charles as the car sized Sentimonster barreled down the street. It was simpler and cruder than the previous ones, he noted. He wondered what his grandfather would have thought of it, he was always one to criticise the shapes and outfits of the villains for some reason. 

_Like granpa would have thought that this one was too simple or something, then he'd go on a tangent about what emotion had given birth to it or whatever._ mused Charles. He opened his phone's camera and snapped a photo out of habit.

_-click!-_

"MIRACULOUS?" Its booming voice rattled the glass and shook the room. With feet as wide as tree trunks, it skidded to a halt just outside their building. The Sentimonster had stopped in its tracks and began smelling the air for something...

"Is it...sniffing?" asked Charles. There was a lack of urgency in his tone. He knew that he didn't have one in the first place so he would be safe as long as he didn't get in its way.

"Oh my, do you think it smells the scarf?" said Twy with a nervous smile. He tried to remember more but all that came up were images of smoke and sounds of screaming...

Charles looked at Twy with a healthy amount of sudden alarm. "I--" 

"MIRACULOUS!!" screamed the Sentimonster, its smooth bulbous head staring directly at them. With a frog-like grace it shimmied backwards before ramming into the facade of the building. It was trying to get in!!

It all came flashing back clearly to Twy. This was the same monster from all those years ago!! "Graverobber!!" He screamed in wild abandon. He pulled on Charles' ear. "Glutton! Ancient Hunger!!" He zoomed back to the bed and grabbed two tiny pawfuls of the scarf. "It wants to eat the Miraculous, Sharles!" He shoved them into the young man's arms.

"M-maybe it's--" stammered Sharles--er--Charles. There was a crash from below them, and what sounded like a Volkswagen Beetle being forced into the tight stairway soon after. Whatever this Sentimonster was, it was strong enough to get its body through concrete! The entire building rumbled. The bed was shaking, and so was the body resting peacefully beneath its covers.

"MIRACULO--"

"No time, no time!!" Twy wrapped the cloth around the young man's neck. Charles braced himself against the window as both the shaking floors and sudden weight nearly toppled him over. "Tell me to swallow the sun, you goody good-for-nothing!!"

There were screams coming from his floor now. His mind was racing. The floor shook under him like an earthquake. "Uh, swallow the sun?" 

"ARGH." Twy yelled in frustration and pulled the scruff of his neck. "Do you WANT me to--Ooh! You do!" His ears glowed purple as he gazed into the scared boy's chest. "Oh my, you waste of sex, you _do_ have some evil in your heart." 

His reverie was interrupted by a slam against the door behind him. 

"MI-" Its voice reverberated through Charles' bones.

"-RA-" Stray splinters shot out of the wood and clinked against the glass next to them.

"-CU-" And silence...The shaking had stopped. The two looked back the door, amazed at its resiliency. Maybe it had given up?

The Sentimonster roared in desperation. "-LOUS!!" It charged against the door and rammed against it with all its might. An explosion of dust billowed from one of its hinges.

"Oh oh oh my this will be fun!!" Smiled Twy as Charles struggled to get the scarf off him. "Now, repeat after me, okay? Twy. Swallow the sun!"

Charles weighed his options. He didn't want this Kwami, but it was the only thing his grandfather treasured, but he couldn't face a Sentimonster! But no worries, Ladybug and Catnoir would fix everything, he just needed to wait for them to fix things once Twy was taken...But they should have been outside his window by now...  
Right? That's what heroes do, they arrive just in the nick of--

He heard a snap of wood, and saw the reflection of something massive was trying to squeeze in through the small hole in the door behind him.

"I know this is a lot to take in but Twy, swallow the sun!" screamed Twy. 

Charles' hands were frozen on the scarf. Cat Noir and Ladybug weren't here to save him. The wretched thing around his neck was loose. He could toss it at the monster and be free from it.

Half the door was gone but the roars had stopped again. The two turned to look at the hole left in the door, but couldn't see anything in the now dark void beyond it. Without warning, a grotesque appendage shot through the hole and straight for them. Charles stumbled back just in time to see a pale undulating tongue as wide as his head stick against the glass. 

- _CRASH-_ The tongue cracked a hole into it with its next strike, scattering shards on to the street below.

Charles pulled himself up to the bed and glanced at his granpa. Maybe he could lay across him instead? Another crash surprised the already panicking Twy, causing his flames to illuminate the cold open eyes of the dead old man staring right at him. Gone was the kindness in Emil's eyes. All that was left was a haunting scowl that pierced through his soul and left him backing down in shame.

"Twy!! Swallow the sun!!" Twy pulled on bunches of his hair, forcing the young man to focus back on him. What was once a swirling black void in his eyes were now replaced by scared ordinary animal eyes. "...Please."

He couldn't let go. He had to use it. He had to buy time for the real heroes.

Fueled by adrenaline, he looked at the kwami and commanded: "Twy! Swallow the sun!!"

The scarf flew up and wrapped around his nose and mouth as he felt its magic flow around him. He shut his eyes and felt the weight on his shoulders disappear as a warmth coursed around his body, felt a new strength flowing through his very bones. It was amazing! For once, he felt that he could actually defeat the Sentimonster by himself. 

He opened his eyes and saw a dark cloud in the shape of his grandfather's face, twisted and broken, slowly be absorbed into the new...scarf(?) around his neck. 

_What was that..._ Any shred of bravery disappeared like the rest of the glass.

The tongue drew back and crashed against the shards again. He heard the wood chipping away. The door wasn't going to last any longer. 

With no other choice, Charles launched himself with a blaze of purple flames out of the remains of their window. The remaining shards of glass melted around his form and scorched the brick facade, and time slowed down around him. He couldn't hear the Sentimonster anymore, the street was silent and peaceful around him. It almost felt like a dream. He could land on the pavement and be just fine.

But the nightmare gnawed at his heels. The tongue had shot out and encased the poor boy's ankle in cold sticky flesh and jolted him back to reality. His entire body snapped back like a whip as he was harshly dragged back with frightening force. He turned to at least get a glimpse of the creature, his body igniting itself in reaction, but all he found was the black void of its gaping maw closing around his head. 

And, for a moment, the dark truly was quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did the door last so long against Feast? Physics. Also look up that video of a team of like 3 officers trying to bust down an apartment door for 5 minutes. Police try to break down a Vibranium Door I think.
> 
> also, first fanfic posted, yay!


	2. Alit, Alone.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Charles treads the line of unneeded fantasy and cold reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo! The tone gets real existential depresso at the end so feel free to stop reading if it gets too real.

The foul beast swallowed the flames with ease. It had consumed greater, more dangerous objects, what were the pitiful embers of a simple Miraculous compared to them? It shook off the little sparks weakly clinging to its body and leaped out into the street below. The Sentimonster smelled the air, sensing the distinct magicks that Miraculouses gave off, and with a wet roar, gave chase to the cyclist and banana once more.

There was a stray thought in its primal imagination, however. An idea that would have been a cause for concern if it had the creativity to do so. Those pitiful embers that strange wielder released for a moment nearly turned its tongue to ashes. What would've happened if--

"MIRACULOUS!!" The familiar scent of the Ladybug and Cat Miraculouses had stamped out that spark of creativity. There were more important things it had to think about now, such as how fast it would have had to run to catch up to them. With elephantine stumps, it shambled across the streets and charged at the red and black-clad heroes ahead of him. 

The young man felt its roar vibrate the thick air around him. Its sour taste stung his throat with every breath. He opened his eyes and found himself afloat inside what looked to be the Sentimonster's stomach. It looked too large, even with the size of it. 

Sickly blue light illuminated the countless bubbles around him. He twisted around the space to get a grasp of where he was in this alien environment, but try as he might, these maddeneningly unchanging depths were too far removed from logic and reality for him to make any sense of it.

His eyes itched in the liquid. Charles wondered if this space was acidic enough to take out his eyes first, and after a rather quick internal deliberation, he came to the very logical conclusion that he didn't want to stay long enough to find out.

He rubbed his eyes and tried to calm himself. This lasted for a few seconds at most, however, as he felt tears welling up beneath his mask. Flexing his gloved hands, he rubbed his eyes harder, convincing himself that this was a simply dream he could easily have woken up from. Maybe he wasn't trying hard enough? Steeling himself, he slapped his face as hard as he could. 

And when that only left him with a sore cheek, he tried to focus on something else, looking down, he examined how the jagged chestpiece that exposed the entire front of his bodysuit; like the black jaws of a great mechanical beast was trying to snap shut around his body. The motif tapered downwards until they steadily became a flat pattern along his legs.

He heard a faint beep followed by the slight loosening of the teeth around his chest. It seems that what power the suit allowed him was already running out. He shut his eyes and sighed as a sad thought floated through his head.

_Buy time for the real heroes...So much for that..._

The dulled sound of a car alarm brought him out before he sank any further. Charles opened his eyes to find himself surrounded by bubbles of all sorts of sizes, containing a myriad of random items. There was a jar, a marble, a car, a bus and even a manhole or two! These were all the things the Sentimonster had eaten! 

Charles was struck by an idea. If this Sentimonster was roaring for his Miraculous, or Miraculouses in general. _Then..._ He swam for the closest bubble. It contained a charm in the shape of an eye. _This must be a Miraculous!!_ He looked around him, his enhanced vision allowing him to spot the other small bubbles floating with him. _There has to be one that'll get me out of here..._

He swam around, surprised that it actually worked, and went looking for the most finely crafted of them all. _The same alchemist made all these, then the most beautiful should--there!!_ He paddled straight for a bubble containing an elegantly carved tiara. But as soon as his dark gloved hands grabbed it, however, the tiara burst apart into smaller bubbles.

And in each one, a broken piece of the Miraculous. 

Flames licked from the tips of his fingers. His eyes widened in fear. He jerked backwards into a bubble containing a car, popping it, scattering it into hundreds of bubbles containing the thousands of parts and fragments of the vehicle. 

It had become exceedingly difficult for Charles to remain calm. Under normal circumstances, it would have been as easy as taking a couple of deep breaths, but this clearly wasn't within any realms of normality, and so despite the logical part of his mind trying to keep everything in order, his baser instincts were already in control.

He tried swimming back to where he came from, but in the vast sameness of the stomach, that idea was shortlived.

He tried igniting himself like before, but the magical fluid of the stomach prevented the embers from growing larger. 

He tried transforming back, in the hopes that ordinary flesh and blood doesn't belong in this place and he'll be spat out, but he did not know how.

He frantically swam around, trying to grab whatever Miraculous he can, maybe one of them had to work even if they were broken.

He nearly burned his lungs as he tried to catch his breath in the middle of a cloud of bubbles.

_-beep-_

He screamed, but even his own voice was dull in his ears.

The stomach shook again. Something had hit the Sentimonster from the outside.

Charles had another flash of inspiration. _What if I hit it from the inside._ He patted down his body, there had to be something on him like a yoyo or a staff--

He felt a short rod attached just at the back of his hip. It came loose with a tug, a handle black as pitch, decorated with faint violet lines carved along its side and no longer than his forearm, and it rested comfortably in his hand. It almost looked a part of his chestpieces, the way its blooming daffodil shaped crown looked like teeth themselves.

_...with a fucking stick._

Charles nearly laughed in defeat. He examined it closer, perhaps there was something he was missing, but it indeed looked, felt, and tasted like a regular wand (or other stick-like analogues.) Yet a part of him was drawn to the odd flower crown at the top

He twisted it like it was the most natural thing to do. The crown easily turned with a soft click, and out slid a symmetrical blade just a little longer than it. He tested the edge against his finger, and even though he was covered by the thick magical layer of the suit, it still felt quite sharp. He had a knife!! ...What was he to do with a knife? There wasn't anything around him but this sea of bubbles. 

The air shook again, what was the thing fighting out there? In fact, did the space shrink a little? He swore that it was a little bit brighter a while ago, and there definitely wasn't a dark spot behind him when he first arrived.

Knife in hand, he swam towards the noticeably the darker parts of the area and found himself face to face with a fleshy pale blue wall. This had to be its stomach wall!

He shivered in disgust at the thought.

Another violent rumble. A mass of bubbles rose up from under him and engulfed him in a sparkling sea of white. He blindly reached out and grabbed the pulsating magical flesh out of panic. It squelched in his hand. Disgust turned into horror as he found that he couldn't pull his hand free at all. The foam around him lessened enough for him to see his free hand stuck against the flesh, slowly being consumed by one of the monster's bubbles.

And out of sheer primal fear, he stabbed it, gasping in pain as the shock ran up both his arms. It was like hitting a metal door! He groaned in pain as the misfiring nerves slowly recovered.

He tried twisting back, but found that his foot too had gotten stuck. Charles forced himself to look forward and bit his tongue as the creeping numbess spread around his leg. His tears were soaking into his mask. This isn't how he wanted to die, or rather, he didn't want to die at all! If the Sentimonster only wanted to eat his grandfather's Miraculous then why couldn't he have left it there? Why did he have to let that stupid Kwami guilt trip him into taking care of it?! 

"Ladybug and Cat Noir'll save the day." He lied to himself as the bubbles spread further across his body. It felt like they were slowly being dragged deeper into a pot of hungry fire ants and he didn't dare imagine how worse it would be if his timer ran out. 

_-beep-_

Adjusting his grip, he stabbed at the pulsing flesh with superhuman strength, but all that did was send more excruciating spikes through his entire arm and left not even a scratch in the skin. Charles bit his tongue through the pain as he continued to uselessly hack at the Sentimonster's stomach.

Then, he heard the Sentimonster gulp. It had swallowed something else. He paused to looked behind him and, in the distance, saw the vague shapes of Paris' Dynamic Duo, now trapped in the same hopeless predicament as he.

"Ladybug, Catnoir!!" he screamed as they casually swam along without a care in the world. They couldn't hear him. He was too far.

He couldn't believe it--He _wouldn't_ believe it! What could they possibly do inside? Turning away, he stared blankly at the slowly growing bubbles around his limbs and wondered if everything would go back to normal before or after he split into parts and fragments of a human body, or if everything would be restored at all.

The dread sparked something in him; a feeling both sharp and dull, like his chest was being torn apart by the teeth of cruel writhing worms. They ate their way through his body, into his arm, into the tightening grip around his knife. The fangs of his chestpieces dug deeper into his skin.

The air around him boiled. Dark flames bursted out from the gaps of his armor and streaked across the material of his suit like shooting stars in the night, completely wreathing his body in its unnatural warmth.

He had to destroy this monster no matter what. Finding a shard of hope, or madness, he reversed his grip on his dagger, now blazing with the same flames as him, and swung down with all his might. A deep groan of discomfort echoed all throughout the stomach as he pierced through the magical skin with ease.

_-beep-_

It worked! But it wasn't enough. He had to dig deeper, carve more into ashes! "Just one more." Charles reassured himself, ignoring the bubbles now engulfing a good half of his body, ignoring how each breath singed his lungs, how he couldn't even tell if his limbs were still there. 

His hacks grew quicker, more frenzied, more careless. The gash across its skin grew wider, looking more like cracked leather than a clean deep cut. The bubble was up to his chest now, black flames inside billowed across its smooth surface. "Just one more." he cried to himself like a prayer.

"Just one more!!" But the beast's skin was deeper than he expected. He needed more to break through. He needed more to break free. The roars of the creature told him so. It could feel the hole he was carving into its stomach. It could feel the flames that incinerated its flesh!

The bubbles had completely consumed him now, and all he saw was the purple glow of his knife that pierced through the roiling darkness of such twisted and distorted flames. He held his breath against the immense heat that threatened to turn his chest into ashes. The fires roiled across his body.

He wanted to scream, he wanted to cry out in pain, and he had to keep going. Steeling himself, he threw all his might in the gaping hole and plunged the entirety of his knife into the depths the beast's stomach. 

"...cul..os...La..bu--!!" A shout of triumph echoed in the roaring darkness. 

A light shone through the crack. He cackled. Gravity was returning! Blindly putting his foot against the wall, he wedged the violently shaking blade deep into the pulsing skin, and gave one last wrench.

And with a deafening clap of thunder, he was engulfed in a burst of blinding white light. 

*

A figure burst out of thin air and landed with a thud in the middle of an intersection. It laid there on all fours. The fire that accompanied it, dark and spiraling, bathed the street in its unnatural embers before dissipating into thin air. 

_-beepbeep-_

His body shuddered as he gasped for breath. Shaking in disbelief, he couldn't believe it worked. Was he actually back? Or was this just the last dream of a piece of his greymatter floating around a Sentimonster's stomach?

Whatever it was, it felt like his arms could give way at any second. His hands were filled with pins and needles as they dug into the hard asphalt. With a grunt of immense effort, he pushed himself to his knees and breathed deep of the mildly polluted air. His head held up high, he forced out a weak laugh. No dream of his would ever keep this place's stench! He had never thought that the smell of smoke and trash would be so welcoming. 

After taking a few more deep breaths of that fresh Parisian air, the young man found the strength to gingerly pick himself up and stretched his tensed body. He was back! 

"What...time is it?" he asked to no one really as his eyes adjusted to the noontime sun. It was night the last time he checked. He couldn't have been in there for more than 10 minutes.

"...Where's everyone..." There was nothing around him but the empty streets and shuttered businesses. It was almost as if the population had disappeared again because of an Akuma, or were they hiding this time because of an Akuma? Either way, that would mean that he had appeared in the middle of a possible Akuma Attack...

Compared to almost being digested, it was an improvement. Probably.

His arm shuddered with how hard he was unconsiously trying to snap the knife still in his hand. He pried it away with considerable effort and looked for some place to hide before he caught anyone's attention.

Unfortunately, it was too late for that. The brief burst of his black flames had caught the attention of the last person he would have wanted to, the source of all of Paris' supernatural troubles.

"What is this..." Hawkmoth pondered from his observatory. While his Miraculous had allowed him to sense the steady flow of strong emotions of Paris, this...spike had caught him off-guard. It disappeared as quickly as he sensed it but from what he could tell, it wasn't one singular emotion. No, it was an amalgamation of everything he had ever given form. After a moment of careful consideration, he focused on his link with his latest Akuma.

_Desperada, there's something I need you to do..._

From the heights of the Eiffel Tower, a skeleton-faced young woman scanned the empty streets. They were remarkably empty, but she had to do what he commanded. She was about to give up and return to hunting down Ladybug and Cat Noir's Miraculouses when she found something odd in one of the streets. The Akumatized guitarist relaxed her shoulders. "There's a blindfolded dog-person, Hawkmoth." said Desperada. "He's limping around like an idiot."

A glowing butterfly appeared over her face. Seeing what she saw had brought more questions. The odd suit did not resemble anything mentioned in the tome, it couldn't have been another Miraculous. Hawkmoth shut his eyes and focused on the general location of the young man but sensed nothing.

_Nothing?_

His curiosity was piqued. The Butterfly Miraculous let him sense the entire range of emotions if he tried hard enough, but try as he might...there was a complete absence of anything around that young man. He would not command Desperada to look into it. This was a risk he could not afford now...He could, however, have her try to capture this oddity in the meantime.

Hawkmoth chuckled, "Capture him, Desperada!" 

"Sure thing, Hawkmoth." she gladly replied. Breathing out, she pulled the trigger and watched as the yellow beam of light shot straight for the young man.

The sharp triangular ears on Charles' head twitched. A shiver ran down his spine as he dragged his feet for the nearest subway. Something was wrong. Something was behind him. His body turned on its own, moving faster than he could think. The knife almost flew into his hand as he ignited himself, and slashed the air behind him. Charles couldn't see what it was from the yellow smoke that burst around him.

Desperada scowled. The shot looked like it stopped short of him. She adjusted her grip on her magical brass rifle and fired again.

Charles haphazardly danced backwards as his knife sang from the next shot. His knees nearly buckled under the force of the projectile. It was all he could do to stay standing, as weakened as he was. The weight on his shoulders was coming back with a vengeance. Was it the suit?

_-beepbeepbeep-_

It was definitely the suit. Charles grimaced in disbelief. What kind of twisted fate had its grip around his neck?!

He barely blocked the next shot. It grazed past him and hit a pigeon. His ears twitched. The next shot was already headed for him but his arm wouldn't move. 

Hawkmoth's smile grew. That young man was a Miraculous holder! And a foolishly new one, at that.

Charles took a step back and realised a little too late that there was nothing to step back on. A flash of yellow streaked above him as the rest of his body met the hard steel cornered steps of the Paris Metro.

*

If a train had ears, it would have heard the repeated yelps and ows of pain a young man cried as he slid down the steps. In fact, if a train did have ears, it would have cursed its fate to be a train as it screeched and roared through the dark tunnels. Crying out in helpless abandon for anyone to put it out of its misery.

A Miraculous Holder or two, however, had ears; and a general appreciation for their ability to hear more things other than a train screaming down its tracks, like the yelps and ows of a young man falling down a flight of stairs.

_-beepbeepbeep-beep!-_

Charles groaned in pain as he felt the magic return to his scarf. He pulled it off and stuffed it into his jacket before anything else could happen. At least his limbs didn't feel like brittle lead anymore. He rubbed his eyes and got more comfortable on the cold concrete floor he found himself on. Whatever was shooting at him definitely wouldn't reach him now. He laughed at the small square of sky above him, not registering the footsteps that grew closer.

Paris' Ladybug-themed heroine leaned over him. Her bright blue eyes looked like they were plucked from the skies themselves. "Hey, are you alright?" she asked. A green snake-themed hero came up beside her with a similar look of concern. 

Charles breathed a sigh of relief. All his fears washed away at the sight of the real heroes of Paris. "Yeah..." He smiled like an idiot, "You're okay!" and sat up to face them. 

"That's good to hear." said the noticeably taller snake hero with a smile. He brushed his blue hair and strummed a chord on his--

 _Is that a harp?_ thought Charles. _Maybe a spike pops out the side..._

"And of course we are." said Ladybug. "But...are you sure? You look like you just fell a long way." She glanced up the staircase. 

Twy softly groaned from somewhere beneath his jacket. Charles immediately clutched his head in fake pain before they noticed. 

"Ooh, ow. Maybe not..." he said with a grimace. "I'll live tho, this just needs a little ice. Probably."

That didn't seem to convince Ladybug and the Snake Hero. They still had a look of concern on their face. Charles felt a pang of guilt. It was the same look his grandfather had whenever he tried lying to him.

"Had to get away from that Akuma up there and I must have skipped a step...or five--ten..." he continued. It didn't make him feel any better, but it didn't make him feel any worse.

The two heroes exchanged glances as another hero clad in black came up from the tracks.

"Ladybug! There you are." said Cat Noir. He paused to catch his breath and turned to the Snake Hero. "You must be--"

"Viperion." he replied with a smile. "I'll be helping you and Ladybug out." 

Cat Noir gave him one of his trademark smiles and extended a hand while Viperion responded with a raised fist. 

"Oh-here lemme"

"No--There--" 

Ladybug shook her head as the two struggled with their hands. Something about this person was nagging at her. She couldn't quite put her finger on it.

"Uh, Ladybug? What's wrong?" asked Charles. Paris' superhero was unintentionally staring at the place he stuffed that accursed Miraculous into. He leaned further back into the wall. _Can she sense it?_

She snapped out of it when Cat Noir and Viperion finally got on the same page and gave each other a high five.

"Shall we get going, Milady?" chimed the Cat. 

"You shouldn't overstuff your pockets like that." She said nonchalantly, "It'll stretch out the outer layer." and with a nod of confidence, turned to discuss strategy with the rest of her team. 

Charles waved them off as they ran down the further into the tunnels and breathed a sigh of relief. _I should have gave it to her..._ A wild thought went through his mind. But what if he'd help them? Paris' new heroes! Ladybug, Cat Noir, and--uh, Charlie? 

"Urgh, Tikki's new master is as _-blergh-_ as her." Twy cursed as he flew out his shirt.

The young man combed up his auburn curls and relaxed as the fairy spouted a lot more colorful things about his siblings and continued his daydream. Wielding his magic-eating knife, he would be the frontline to whatever threat came to Paris. Slashing apart all the Akumas and Sentimonsters with ease as he easily burned through their defenses and returned them to normal!

Or he could be like back-up, making sure Ladybug and Cat Noir didn't get blindsided. He imagined the bootleg merch they'd make once he solidified himself as a team member. Remembering the cheap notebooks he had of them filled him with a strange sense of pride. He always got the best worst ones for his grandpa. It was one of those childhood flukes that turned into a tradition.

He wondered if Grandpa Emil was out asking where he was again--

He grabbed the lump of cloth as reality came crashing down and ground his whole world to a stop. Emil wouldn't be checking up on him. He can stay out as long as he wanted now. There was no one to call him out for being out late now.

Then again, he didn't like staying out anyway.

He looked up to Twy. The curious little Kwami was still going on about how 'good' the rest of his siblings were and how he couldn't stand it, or something. He remembered the pure look of those twisting black eyes. Maybe he was hurting too?

Emil would have known what to say to his Kwami.

A swarm of miraculous light circled them. They must have won.

Charles sighed in relief as the setting sun turned his surroundings a warm orange. The shadows grew shorter, the station lights lit up, and soon enough, the trains were back on schedule. People were coming back from work or wherever they were hiding. Everything was going back to normal.

Everything was already back to normal. Charles couldn't believe it. It hadn't been ten minutes and people were back to their regular lives. But how? How were they able to move on? How dare they continue on, don't they know his grandfather is dead?!

He stood up. It didn't feel real. People walked by. They didn't look real. The little fairy had gone back to what hidden pockets he came from. Was he even real? The scarf was stuffed inside. That was real. When was the last time he breathed. How long had he been standing there. Were people staring at him. Their voices were as indistinct as the sounds of the rails on the tracks. 

Was he even real? Was this all a dream?

His name was Charles Rochacal. That was real. It was taken from his grandfather's side of his family. He was real, and he was gone.

But...was he really gone? The last few hours were definitely too fantastic to have been...real.

He flexed his arm. Some pain still remained. He couldn't stay here. He had to get back to Granpa Emil. 

His mind was in a haze of memories of him. Conflicting pieces of information that tried to justify that he was still alive.

The gaunt haunting face that night was just a dream.

The doorknob felt oddly cold in the spring air. It was locked. He had left his key upstairs. 

He could call his Granpa to unlock the door.

The sun was setting. The street lights were aglow. He turned the knob again, maybe it was unlocked.

"What are you doing?" chirped the voice of the probably real Kwami.

His eyes teared up. "I can't open the door."

Twy emerged from his jacket, "Oh you poor thing," and without a second glance, flew through the white wooden door, leaving him in the inconsiderately pleasant night. He kept knocking, calling out for his grandfather's Kwami. It wasn't until he threatened Twy that a soft click came from the doorknob.

But Charles couldn't open bring himself to open it. It was the only thing separating his hopes from the harsh reality. Would the radio be on?

*

It wasn't. All that greeted him was the darkness reaching out to him. He checked every room. Maybe he was out for the day? Taking a walk? Charles would have to prepare dinner, then.

What did Emil like again? The fridge was stocked with a bottle of milk, cheese, and microwave lasagna. He...

He liked tea.

Nothing western, oddly enough. It was always Jasmine.

He could have Jasmine tea twice a week to remember him by...

Charles resigned himself to the comfort of the modest living room and curled across the firm dusty sofa. The warmth of the streetlamps outside barely shone through the blinds. He pulled out the worn scarf and wrapped it around his hands. A hard tug could probably snap it all over. Tears welled up behind his eyes. There were other things he could hang on to other than this piece of shit. 

But there wasn't. Nothing else had held so much importance for Emil.

 _Not even you, Charles, admit it._ a voice whispered into his ears. He almost choked on his own grief-ridden tears. It was only a matter of time until Emil passed on. It was just nature. His time was up. There was nothing else to do but wait and make what was left of his days comfortable--

 _For who? Yourself?_ the voice taunted him. _You stopped looking him in the eyes years before he died._

He used the scarf to dry his bloodshot eyes. His rasping breaths were the only thing punctuating this suffocating silence.

It engulfed him. It wanted to drown him, to pull him into the void below where dreams dissolve and nightmares fade. Down beneath where the orchestra of the stars is played, drowning out all traces of being.

He was supposed to be used to this stillness.

He had to wake up. He felt himself slipping away.

 _Grandpa._ Charles sobbed as he clutched the scarf tight to his chest.

It turned into a whisper clinging to the husk of his reality. The silence grew stronger the more he wished for time to stop. His grandfather was drifting further away with each passing second. 

He stared at the ceiling, but it did little to substitute the lack of anything. The living room had turned into a black and white movie slowly rolling to its end.

And none of it mattered.

Soon enough he'd forget about him too. The silence drowned out his voice and his thoughts. He floated alone ever downwards past the dark. His thoughts a cacophony of embers that faded around him. 

It was never this quiet before.

And the world ignored him as it always did. All he had was the sound of the universe echoing within his encapsulated being, playing its silent lullaby.


	3. Fairy Tales

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Charles tries to do something else.

A particularly dark butterfly flew out in the urban wilds of Paris. It was as small as butterflies were, but there weren't much to compare them to in the middle of the city. It was, however, exceedingly more magical than the other butterflies found in Paris. With its dark wings it fluttered to and fro, attracted to the negative emotions of an unlucky Parisian Hawkmoth had sensed for his daily Akuma quota.

It flitted through the crowds and busy streets, unnoticed by most of the people all too busy living their lives. Walls weren't of any concern to it, as it was a relatively exceedingly magical butterfly, and it phased through many buildings in search of that burst of emotions its master had sensed.

The butterfly flew up to the rooftops to better feel where it was coming from. Aha! There it was! How could it have missed its sweet smell? It flip flapped onwards, crossing streets and alleys until it slowly reached the rooftops of the Arc de Triomphe.

"Hello, _petite papillon._ " he whispered. "Good-bye." 

And it distintegrated before it could reach it. 

Paris' newest Miraculous holder sighed as he felt the magic that infused the butterfly spiral into the eclipse shaped brooch on his chest. 

Below him was a mess of barely scratched cars and severely dented egos. The type of mess that would have gotten worse if a stray Akuma were to get in any of them.

He wiped the sweat off his brow. The days had grown hotter all too quickly.

A heat-stroke based Akuma would have been the worst.

Charles put a hand to his chin. Maybe the heat would prompt a cold-based Akuma. Something like what the weather girl turned into. At least then he wouldn't have to cough from the dry air and smog while he went around.

He stretched across the smooth stone floor and stared into the cloudy blue sky, thankful that the Arc's rooftops have been closed off, with all the randomness of Akuma attacks.

_-beepbeepbeep-beep!-_

In a flash of light, his suit quickly receded back into the scarf around his neck. The Kwami took a gulp of fresh air as he flew circles above him. 

"Oh, Charlie, that was delightful! Do you think Nooroo's master would be willing to take on two Kwami--no, another Kwami? Do you think they have a garden full of those butterflies?" Twy fantasised. "What do you think it'd smell like when it's burning?"

The little fairy had been more energetic (and a bit more kind) since yesterday, when he was allowed to 'eat' the butterflies before they transformed people. 'They tasted better!' he claimed. 

"There wouldn't be any use for them once I'm around, you see. I'm way more useful than Nooroo ever could be and--" Twy rambled in all the things he and that new master would have been able to do.

Charles ignored him as much as possible. He was too busy finding the short peace of mind a good nap gave. The past two weeks were a lifetime ago.

\--

Sunday came like any other. A fresh breeze blew through one of the open windows. All the curtains were drawn open. He put on a fresh set of clothes. The microwave lasagna was hot and edible.

The morning sun greeted him as he stepped out into the bright sunny streets. Cars were honking, people were walking, and the garbage truck had just picked up his bin. 

Charles bid farewell to the half-eaten lasagna. May that brand never set foot in their--his house again. He shut the door before the breeze blew the stench of the truck back to him, as it usually did.

Part of him was glad Emil died over the weekend, he had a good 48 hours to go from being a minimally functioning wreck-and-a-half to a passably fuctioning shell of a person. 

He managed to get all of Emil's things into a box. The scarf was demoted to be the cushioning for the few odd bits and bobbles his grandfather had collected throughout the years. A few news clippings, a broken pocketwatch, and a recently tearstained drawing of two smiling stick figures. Charles even signed it with the 'fancy pen' his dad gave him for his 5th birthday.

Where did he leave it again?

It was late in the afternoon when the sheets and pillows were stored away. His phone was buzzing nonstop from all the messages he was probably getting. Words of comfort, encouragement, sorry's for his loss, probably, he was too tired to check.

His parents visited a few days after that. They stayed in the newly freed room for a while and reminisced about the 'good old days', talking about the odd things Emil had done when they were younger. Like the way he'd just walk around their hometown with a skip in his step and a smile in his eyes; and nearly got stabbed because of it, in fact.

They had a good laugh and, to his surprise, they stayed longer than usual. They helped him with the funeral and its paperwork, much to his relief. He spent the freed up time replying to some of his friends, telling them that they're welcome to visit if they can. And, to his surprise, a small village's worth of people and a couple of friends arrived throughout the three days. It was like Emil's entire hometown had come over to pay their respects, his parents had to rent out another room for the 'extended family.'

It was tiring. Apparently, Emil had never said anything about a grandchild, so Charles had become the man of the night for most of the nights--and mornings, for that matter, when his parents sat and drank with a lot of them.

The funeral's last day was cold. Unbearably so. News said that it was the last bits of winter or another cold-based Akuma, one of the two. 

He gave the scarf a once-over under the light of the closet. All other warming apparel were too thick, lent to one of the funeral guests, or worse, too 80's. 

There wasn't a frayed edge or moth-eaten hole to be found on the faded blue cotton. Maybe he was too tired, but it felt lighter than that night when he draped it around his neck. 

A young man almost as tall as him stared back from the mirror behind the closet door. He looked well, and tired. He had heavy bags under his dark brown eyes. His auburn curls were messier than usual, and-- _sigh_ He looked perfectly normal, all things considered. There was slight frown on his thin face and his eyes were a bit puffy, but that was it.

Did he really need to go back? Well, what kind of host would he be otherwise?

He tied the scarf into a loose knot and slammed into the mirror from the weight crashing him forward.

He loosened the damned thing, sighing as the weight disappeared, and tossed it over his neck instead. 

Charles dug himself out of the pile of leopard-print coats and bedazzled yoga pants that fell with him.

 _Not worth it._ He tossed the scarf back with the rest of Emil's things, deciding to brave the chill for at least two streetlamps when a near-freezing breeze made him reconsider his decisions.

Bracing himself, he slowly wrapped the scarf around his neck, feeling the weight steadily increase, and awkwardly dragged his feet across the pavement. 

He collapsed into a park bench by the 4th intersection and stretched his aching neck. His eyes traced the rooftops, following the odd bits of satellite dishes and plastic tiles set against the backdrop of the orange clouds that smeared the drowsy sky.

'Akuma Watching,' Emil called it, used to call it. The first step to being a hero was to be vigilant. It would've helped if he had explained that 'vigilant' didn't mean 'staring off into space' when he was smaller. 

Charles stifled a yawn. He could call his parents, say he's not coming back, they were better used to socializing with crowds of people anyway. And after the 6th time of being dragged away from a conversation to sit down with another group of people, it started to feel more like he was a show-and-tell piece.

-

"Hey hey, it's Charles! Come over here, see, doesn't he have his eyes?" one of Emil's friends(? acquaintances?) pulled him through the doorway and sat him down with his friends, and Remi, one of Charles' friends.

In place of him, the septuagenerians were entertaining themselves with her cold-shoulder sweater and her half-shave cut. 

Her eyes screamed 'Help' while the rest of her said "I'm studying fashion, cliche I know, but it always felt like a calling to me."

"Yeah, uh, sorry I'm late by the way. I-uh-got chased by some birds." he chuckled, earning a few strangely sympathetic laughs. 

"No worries no worries!" he slammed a palm on his back. "Ah, you should've been in here earlier. Your parents brought an album with them! Told us about all their travels. Oh, you're a lucky boy aren't you? I was already a grandfather when I finally visited France with my dear Pauline...Speaking of which--"

_Sure, lucky._

"Charles! Wow, you made it just in time. Gertrude here was telling about her time as a military nurse." said Remi, which was carefully hidden code for 'Get me the fuck out of here or I'll die of boredom.' 

"Oh! Yeah, grandpa liked to talk about your travels." 

The years were as kind to Gertrude as a keto diet was to an already skinny person. She flashed an almost toothy smile and spoke with an accent he couldn't place. "Fairenough fothar Emilto tellevenmy stories! Lovelyman, generousguy--"

"I knew Charles from lycée. It was a pretty funny thing, actually--"

"We took our kids to one of those anime conventions happening. Do you know those? I couldn't get into them, too colorful--" Another aged man butted in. 

"Thank you! I was caught between navy blue and hot pink--" Remi stared daggers into him. 

"You know, your grandfather used to be the part of the local youth group back in the day, was a looker too." 

"Charles, Charles! Come here! I lent Emil a fur coat a few years ago and I was wondering..."

 _Isn't that my jacket._ He smiled through the one-sided conversations. "I'll have to check, where can I reach you again?"

"I never really met Emil? Usually hung out with Charles here--"

"--So where are you going after university? Your parents tell me they want you to take over their family business--"

"Uh--"

"University's fine, the pressure isn't that much when you get used to it." said Remi.

More guests found their way into the main room. 

"Edward! Edward over here! Oh you're going to like him, Emi,"

"It's Remi."

"He's the town's tailor, you could learn a thing or two from him."

"What happened to his hand?!"

"Rogue ocelot accident, he says."

"Aren't you cold in that, dearie?"

"No, I'm fine thank you." she found herself next to Charles and nudged his rib.

"How has your day been?" asked Charles to no one really. 

"Oh! Are you together?" 

"Fuck no!" Remi blurted out, her face reddening when she realised how loud it was. Oh dear. "I mean, no, we're just friends. We do look good together though, huh?"

"Ah, what a shame..." 

Charles coughed and checked his phone, "Ah, Remi, they're bringing in another bouquet through the front door. Help me bring it in?" and pulled Remi out of the room. 

They found a secluded corner by the reception area. She stormed ahead of him.

"Remi,"

"I-I n-never should've fucking come here." She covered the exposed parts of her sweater and shrank against the wall. Her eyes were locked to her sneakers. 

He sat down beside her. "Sorry for inviting you?"

She snickered. "My fault too for coming over to express my condolences. You would've been fine with a selfie of me with tear emojis, right?" 

"Yeah, kinda." 

They sighed together.

Her eyes darkened. "One of them brought home a bouquet last night too."

"I know." 

"And one was wearing your favourite jacket."

"Yeah,"

"He got it from your dad, said to return it before he left." 

"Mhmm."

"You're not seeing that ever again, d-dude." She scratched her hair.

"I know, and you're doing it again."

"How'd they even know your granpa died?"

"Mom said it was a small town,"

"They should've rotted there." 

"Remi--"

"A-and 'I'm' the problem guest? 'Me'?! When they have the absolute GALL to be like that? I would've been fine with all the ass blasting tales they danced around, all those 'did-you-knows' and 'remember-whens' and losing track-- Gertrude wasn't even a military nurse! One of those geezers pulled me aside and told me--"

" 'She likes to think she was. It makes things a little bit bearable.' Yeah." 

She sank deeper into herself. "They laughed when I told them I wanted to be a fashion designer." 

"They didn't."

"They did. You saw their eyes. They were laughing at me."

"They weren'--" Charles gave up and squeezed the top of her shoe instead. "Nice outfit, by the way."

"Fuck off." she inched away from him. 

He took the hint and stared into the neon green Exit sign across the hallway. 

They sat in the silence for a while, the odd chime of the main entrance and footsteps breaking it just a bit. 

"You don't have to go back in, you know." said Charles.

"Neither do you."

He felt a twinge of guilt. "I have to."

"Really? They were doing fine without you, you know."

He looked at her. 

"Yeah, you should've seen them chat about everything except your granpa. Was like he wasn't even there."

"People process--"

"--grief in their own ways, yeah yeah."

She let her head drop."...I'm sorry 'that part' was too loud." 

"Don't be. I would've too." 

She punched his shoulder, a faint smile returned to her eyes.

"It's true." 

She chuckled. "So, where's that bouquet you mentioned."

"There...never was one?" 

"But you sai--AH, quick thinking there. Damn." 

"Thanks."

"We're gonna have to come back with a bouquet, though."

"Do we really?" 

"Do you really want them to think we snuck off and fucked during your granpa's funeral?" 

They came back with a bunch of black roses in their hands. Luckily, the funeral home had finished a service or two in one of their rooms. It was only a matter of finding which ones didn't have a body in it. 

He froze in the doorway as Remi haphazardly stuck the roses in the other bouquets by the wall. 

"Charlie? What's wrong?" 

"Nothing." Everything. He couldn't place it, but the smiling faces, the joyous laughter, it sickened him. How they stood in rememberance over his dead grandfather, how they regaled each other with barely cohesive stories, how they would argue over the most petty details of their boring lives, how the powdery black smoke kept pouring out of their mouths when they spoke, how their eyes were spiralling voids that sucked in all the light, how the room was absolutely filled with that bitter miasma. 

A smog had consumed the room and it was flowing towards him. He forced down the rising sick in his throat and clutched his chest.

"Are you sure?" Remi asked him, unaware of the things he saw. There was a worried look in her eyes, unsure of what exactly to do. "Shit. You're looking, like, really pale..."

"I am?" he let out. Now that she mentioned it, he was starting to feel lightheaded also. "I am!" 

She shoved a hand to his forehead. "What happened?? You were peachy just a minute ago."

"I'm fine, Remi!" He tried to move past her but she held him still. The entire room was staring at them, and it made things worse. The stench only grew stronger, choking him. There was an odd taste in his mouth.

"Yo," she said. He struggled to look at her. "You're definitely sick..."

There was something rising up his throat. He weakly waved his hand, trying to shoo away some of the smoke. "I'm fine. Remi---"

-

And so Charles spent the last night laid across the sofa in a side room with a fresh set of clothes. He also gave Remi a spaghetti-coloured excuse to leave early. 

He let exhaustion take over as the ceremonies came to a close. Everyone had said their tearful goodbyes without him, which was fine, all things considered. They had finally closed the casket on his grandfather's peaceful visage.

Or at least he thought it was peaceful, he never looked.

And before he knew it, it was time to pack up. They had to make room for the next mourning family.

As they walked through the front door, one tiny speck of hope remained that his parents would finally stay for good, but 'business' called as it always had for them. It only took them an half an hour before they were back to whatever work they had to catch up on.

"We're doing this for you, Charlie." They'd always say when he asked, and he always did, just in case their answer was different. 

But it never was.

The urn was still in his arms before he received a wall of text from the both of them. They found some prayers off one of a random website and sent a couple of them to him for good measure. To comfort him in their stead.

Probably. He was too tired to check.

The next day was a struggle to wake up from. His friends were coming over. They had planned something to help cheer him up or comfort him, or something. It was mess of missed calls and cancelled plans either way. 

He wanted to sink into his bed and disappear.

He made himself cereal.

He got out of bed after a while, and made himself breakfast again. His neighbors have been louder than usual the past few days.

Then there was Mr. Pigeon. Charles finished his coffee as Ladybug and Cat Noir fought him in the streets in front of the cafe.

After that, he never knew 2am was such a peaceful time, and slept until 5pm. It was nice. 

He stared at the ceiling, watching his grandfather's Kwami aimlessly giggle above his head. 

He woke up. He ate. He fell asleep.

His professor left messages. He sent in his rough draft with all his sources, maybe that'd shut him up. 

He was told that he passed, if barely. Great. 

He woke up. He ate. He fell asleep.

But Kwamis needed to eat as well, and go on walks, so on a normally inaccessible rooftop of the Arc du Triomphe, Charles cradled his head under the comfortable warmth of the afternoon sun and watched as the clouds rolled by. 


	4. Dominoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Charles lies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> realised that i could present this better after listening to some free youtube writing lectures by brandon sanderson (legit helped me out) aaaaaand BAM, rewrite time!

a/n: takes places before Cat Blanc.

The Satin Space, a cozy cafe situated in the middle of a fashion street, took pride in its 'rustic charm' and 'affordable rates' to attract event planners who wanted that intimate touch for their gatherings.

Richard, the groom, had rented out the entire place to for his dream wedding. Nothing fanciful or extravagant, just a simple wedding with their closest family and friends.

His idea of a 'dream wedding,' however, was the complete opposite of his fiance's, Amelie.

She was on the verge of smudging her make-up from the tears.

"Are you okay?" asked one of the bridesmaids. She helped the petite woman adjust her noticeably un-fluffy bridal gown with woefully simple embroidery. 

"I'm...fine!" she replied, sounding a little strained. "I was just expecting a little bit more." Amelie looked around the makeshift dressing room the cafe was able to spare, a mildly cramped office space with a make-up box strewn about on the desk. "A lot bit more, Julia. This was supposed to be perfect and...urgh?!" she motion her arms around them.

Julia nodded, patting down a stray crease on her dress. "You should've told him about this, I told you." 

Amelie sighed. "I know! and I did! I explicitly told him 'Richard, it's been a dream for me to say 'I do' on the Pont d'Iéna at night with the Eiffel Tower behind us!' Fifteen. Times! Does this look like the Pont d'Iéna?! Is the Seine flowing underneath us? Is there an Eiffel Tower in the background?" She took a deep breath, tears running down her eyes.

Julia stopped herself from pointing out the Eiffel Tower poster behind her. Unable to stand the tense five seconds of silence, she smiled and tried comforting her dear friend, tucking back a stray tuft of her amber hair.

"Well...I know I shouldn't spoil the surprise, but!" She pulled out her phone and showed a picture of the wedding cake they had ordered, and Amelie smiled like a kid in a candy store.

-

"Richard." whispered Amelie. There was a harshness in her voice that seethed out. "What's this."

The ceremonies were over after a quick exchange of vows. The local pastor leading it excused himself to a more private spot in the cafe before the 'I do' left her lips.

The reception was held in the same place, not even a change of lighting or decoration, and the marvelous 4 tiered pure white cake she expected from the photo was a short triple layer white chocolate cake with small figurines of them dancing on top.

It only reminded her of wanting to dance the night away underneath the starry sky.

"It's our dream cake, Amelie!" happily replied Richard, ignoring the tight smile she had. He gave her a beautifully ornate fork to help him cut into it.

"Richard." she whispered, forcing a smile so at least the photos they took would be bearable. "I told you my dream cake was a pure white four-tiered fondant cake with a line of sugar flowers made by our dear friend Marc," She paused to pose for another photo. "Remember?"

"Yeah." he whispered back, unaware of how hard Amelie was gripping her fork. 

"This does not look like a pure white four-tiered fondant cake with a line of sugar flowers made by our dear friend, Marc, Richard."

"I told you, Marc was busy with his other orders, he couldn't have made them in time for this--"

"Then you should've have changed the date AND venue when he could!" The bridal music abruptly stopped as she stomped the floor.

Richard stepped back and sighed. "We're not doing this now, Amelie." He pulled away from her and set down the cake knife. 

"Then when, Richard? When you're off with your friends on another boy's night out? When you're too glued on that stupid Xbox to help around the apartment?!" she yelled, stabbing into the cake. The guests were paralysed, unsure of what to say. 

"Amelie, why don't you take a sea--"

"No, Julia!" she spat before turning back to him. "This was supposed to be *our* perfect wedding, Richard! Not yours! All this time, I--I--" Amelie stalked forward, four years of disappointment and rage pouring out of her eyes. 

Richard backed against the wall, trying everything he knew to calm her down. When the whispers of 'Darlings' and 'Amelie's' surprisingly didn't work, he did the next best thing a husband could possibly do in this situation and shrank from her furious visage like a frightened mouse, watching as a dark butterfly flutter into her fork.

-

A scream awoke him, the sky had a pale orange hue, and Charles gagged from the sickly sweet smell wafting through the air.

"Oh, Charlie! It's an actual Akuma!!" Twy cried. The two of them watched as in the distance a woman in a dazzling dress was floating on a circular platform of frosting and screaming about the perfect 'bedding.'

He snapped a photo of her. It was shaky, but he had no plans on posting it anywhere anyway.

"Let's get going, Twy." he said, dusting off his pants as he stood up.

But the Kwami's eyes were as wide as tiny saucers, fascinated with the way the Akuma seemed to be drawing in the sugars, spices, and everything nice's from the houses nearby to grow the platform into a marvelous tiered cake on spindly legs.

"Twy?"

Its spider-like appendages were growing thicker with every stream of baking ingredients it took in, the cars below swerving away as it scuttled towards the Eiffel Tower.

"Leg Cake!!" giggled Twy. "It's a cake on legs, Charlie! Oh what a fucky-wucky we have here!" 

"What, why?" he retorted. There had been three or four spider-like Akumas making a beeline for the Eiffel Tower the past month already, why was this different?

His stomach grumbled. He'd figure that out after dinner.

"Twy, swallow the sun!" All he had to do was get down and find a burger place, but the transformation had magnified the acrid stench and sent him reeling. 

He caught himself against the railing while he covered his nose, trying to block out the sounds of screeching brakes and panicked yells. There was nowhere to go if that thing caught him here, and it was getting closer. 

The door handle twisted in his grip, the metal inside snapped from the force. 

"Oh, Richard, didn't I tell you the Pont d'Iéna was going to be beautiful?" announced a glittery voice.

He shrank against the door and shut his eyes. 

"And especially at night! Oh how I love the lights of the Eiffel Tower reflecting off the Seine, don't you?"

"Mmmm--" replied a monotone hum. 

"Oh hold that thought, dear..."

Its shambling stopped. It had stopped in front of him, its back faced him. The concentrated miasma made his eyes water. 

"...Anyways, have I ever mentioned how I wanted our wedding to be in an open space?" continued the Akuma. It strode through the roundabout, panicked car horns disappearing as fast as they blared beneath its skittering form. 

"I was thinking. That open space would have felt too...open if we just invited our friends and family sooo--"

It passed him, and in that moment he saw the small crowd of people frozen; candied statues on the cake's tiers, their terrified expressions locked in time. Even the groom that stood by her side had a plastic smile.

"I was thinking of getting more guests for our wedding! What do you think, Richard?"

"Mmmm!" the statue hummed as the cake golem stomped on more cars, adding more statues to the fondant monstrosity.

Charles stared at the Akuma as it shambled up a building, its many legs crashing through the windows to get another guest.

And another.

And another.

And another.

His heart pounded into his skull. 

He had to get them out--But Ladybug and Cat Noir would fix this quick enough. He could wait safely at home. There was no reason to risk his life again.

 _Oh,_ He heard Twy's giggling voice echoing in his ears. _But what if Ladybug can't fix everything? Remember what happened to you? The others might be lost forever for all you know!_

 _What if they're too late?_ Charles gripped his sceptre. Its sharp edges dug into his skin. _I can stop it before it gets worse..._

The cake-golem was as large as a house by the time he found it. The lovely bride's cadre of guests encircled the four tiers. Their gazes were locked at the lovely bride and groom of the evening on the topmost tier. 

Charles bit his lip. She hadn't seen him yet. He frantically leapt across the rooftops, taking lungfuls of what fresh Parisian air he could as he closed the distance. Once he reached her, he could--could what? All he had was a knife to go against a giant cake on stilts. 

The Akuma suddenly stopped. He crashed into a wall trying to stop himself. Did she see him?

"Hold that thought, dear--Oh yes Hawkmoth, the wedding preparations are going well! Richard and I--uh, what? What do you mean something's by us?"

She harrumphed. "A Miraculous? That shouldn't be any trouble, right? Why are you so worked up about it, anyway, it's not like they can reach me--"

He saw the golem sway unsteadily. It couldn't be so simple, right? It was begging him to trip it over. 

"Yes, yes, I'll keep an eye out for the that one too," she sighed. "Why can't he be more like you, Richard?"

Charles launched himself into the cake, his body ablaze.

-

Her perfect dream cake crashed into a brick facade. She clung on to her petrified hubby as an explosion of burning wind rushed up the tiers.

A dark figure with sharp ears stood before her, unfazed by the shower of ash and frosting falling around them. The very air rippled around the black flames twisting free off his form.

"Sto--" he tried to say but there was no time for pleasantries when her fucking cake was on fire. She shoved him to the side and inspected the damage. 

"That was supposed to be mine and Richard's first date together," she whined, pouring some of her strength into the damaged parts. "Aw, we're going to need new statues too...Ah, no matter, Rome wasn't perfect in a day and all. We'll take as long as we need-" The smell of charred sugar burned her nose. She spun to face the clueless flaming pup. "-What are you doing!!"

It shrugged. Urgh, typical.

"Argh! You're one of the Richard's friends, aren't you?!" With a stomp, the golem tore free of the brick facade and continued its shambling gait. "Ladybug got you a fancy new Miraculous and now you think you can stop this 'bad idea.' Like you know what's best for us!?"

She stomped forward and a garden of thorns sprung to life beneath her. 

"Madame, please just give me the fork--" 

"And let you ruin our perfect wedding?! Again!?" Bridezilla screamed, the flowers in her dress merged into one. "I have a better idea!" 

-

He caught the shot in his hand, but it didn't stop. It slowly crawled up his arm with tiny tendrils. He stared transfixed as his forearm felt like it was on fire. The thing chirped once, suddenly bursting in a cloud of smoke and shrapnel. 

The ground cracked beneath his feet, the jaws of his armor dug into his chest as he stumbled backward, blindly slashing the air to parry the rest of the barrage.

"STOP IT!!" she screeched. The smell of burning caramel filled the air, her sugar glazed paradise melting around him as quickly as it reformed. With an ear-piercing roar she willed a multitude of pillars from the ground, "STOP IT STOP IT STOP IT!!" and kicked them at the invading pup.

He ducked beneath them trying to get closer when Bridezilla caught him in the stomach, the wind knocked out of him. Charles grit his teeth and grabbed her wrist. He raised his knife but it was caught by a vine. More burst from the ground, entangling his limbs in an instant. She leaned in closer, the fondant mask opening up to give her a better view of new newest statue, and how her vines were swollen with violet light.

The explosion launched them into an office building and on to the asphalt below. Charles landed on top of her with her hands wrapped around his neck, her white sleeves melting away to reveal the spiked chitin beneath. He noticed the fork sticking out of her floofy hair and threw himself forward to grab it. She held him away, with two more pairs of arms bursting out of her sides to hold him still. A shadow grew over them, accompanied by the rushing wind.

He shuddered. It hurt to breathe. He tasted leaves, chocolate, and blood. He couldn't move. A small part told him to stop while he could, while a larger part finally felt the pain from getting launched like a golf ball. 

The branches snapped and he crashed into the table below. The feeling was returning to his legs at least, if that's what the dull pain was. Charles propped himself up and watched as the Akuma continued on without pause. The screams brought him back to reality. He grabbed his knife and stumbled after her.

The thing's car-wide legs shook the ground with every step, and left just enough of it to sprout a 'garden' of its own. For the reception, he assumed. Her sugar glazed footprints writhed when he came too close. 

With missing a beat, a barrage of strawberries whistled through the air and broke the asphalt ahead of him. 

He rolled between the abandoned cars and scrambled for the Pershey Bar staircase around its knees. The shambling confection rocked and swayed as it tried to shake him off.

The very air burned as his flames melted away the golem's pristine layer, revealing the roiling union of steel and sugar that fueled this amalgamation. 

_There!_ He saw an opening past the melting wonderland and leapt up, coming to face-to-face with Bridezilla's many eyes before a candy cane caught him in the stomach and launched him through a window. 

Coughing out dust, he bared his teeth at the eyesore as it peered into the collapsed room. He wrenched himself free. There was nowhere to run now. Fighting back the urge to shrink back and beg for his life, he bared his teeth. "Is that all?!"

Bridezilla growled as she stepped into the smashed office room. He heard her mandibles scrape against each other. "I should've caked you when I had the chance." Sugar flowers blossomed behind her, aiming straight at him. 

He threw his sceptre with all his might and she caught it without so much a blink.

"Really?" She examined the thing before it burned bright in her hands and screamed as they turned to ash before her very eyes. He took his chance and rammed into her with murder in his eyes before it could hit the ground, carrying them through the golem and into a balcony across the street.

Charles tore himself free from the bent metal around them and gingerly picked up the source of this mess, a beautifully engraved golden fork inlaid with the names Amelie and...was that a Ricardo or a Richad? Either way, it melted just as quick, the black butterfly weakly fluttered out into the streets.

He reached out to grab it when a bright red blur caught his arm and pulled him into the air.

"Gotcha!" Ladybug cheered as he was tied to a streetlamp with a rather long polka-dotted bike lock. "Looks like your wedding's been canc--huh?" She noticed the butterfly struggle to fly by him. 

"You're not the akuma?" 

"No." The smell of a burning candy store/tire dealership had disappeared, but another scent filled the air. "I was trying to stop it,"

Cat Noir landed gracefully and put two and two together. "Well that's weird."

They stared at him. He couldn't make out the looks on their faces.

"Can you let me down? Please?"

Ladybug turned to Cat Noir. "What do you think?"

He kept his neon green eyes on their latest oddity. "He's not one of your volunteers, right?" 

"Nope. I don't remember any Miraculous looking like that." said Ladybug. She squinted, trying to get a good look at Charles' outfit. "He could be a Sentimonster..."

He raised an eyebrow. "Doesn't he look too human for that?" 

"I know...That's why I'd rather be safe than sorry."

"Good point." Clearing his throat, he called out to Charles. "So, what do they call you?"

Ladybug held back a sigh. "How's that going to hel--"

"Ch--" Charles bit his tongue. "I-I don't know?"

Cat Noir smiled at an even more puzzled Ladybug.

"What do you mean you don't know?" asked Cat Noir.

"I didn't give it much thought." Or rather, he never thought that this would happen at all. He hummed. The awkward position of his binding kept the pressure on all the wrong spots of his battered body. 

"How about 'Oberon'?" he gasped. "You can call me that?" There it was again. That something in the air. It was faint, like a memory of a smell. 

A siren rang in the air, then two, then three. Those weren't normal. 

Cat Noir raised an eyebrow. "Like from Shakespeare? A Midsummer Night's Dream?" he caught Ladybug's eye. "What? I'm a cultured kitty cat." 

Ladybug shook her head. "I think it's safe to assume you're using a Miraculous, then?" 

Charles nodded. 

"Do you know what it is? What it does?" 

"I..." Fuck, he didn't know. 

"So you tried to stop an akuma with a Miraculous you didn't even know how to use?" 

"Y-yes." 

Ladybug sighed. With a flick of her wrist, she threw her yoyo at the bike lock and unlocked it he landed with the grace of a newborn foal falling off a small cliff. 

The smell was clearer down here, and though he didn't know how, he could finally recognize it. 

Anger. It was anger. Her bright blue eyes seemed to pierce his soul. He couldn't bear to look at her, so he looked everywhere else. And that was when he saw it. Kleber St. had seen better post-akuma days, but now it was as if a bomb had gone off.

Lamp posts littered the street like cut wire. Buildings were peppered with strawberries, their windows smashed in and cracked by whatever confectionary delight was shot at it.

And the fire. The dark twisting flames that clung on to the blobs of cake, refusing to go out even as firefighters were pulling people out of the fondant.

His heart dropped. 

"I don't know how or why you have it," She held out her hand. "But it's clear you're not fit to have it in the first place." 

He forced himself to look her in the eyes. He clutched the fabric around his neck. 

-

The silence felt solid enough that Cat Noir could've used his Cataclysm on it. And he would've, by the look on his face.

She couldn't blame him. Of all the things Marinette expected today, this was far from any of it, even after saving Cat Noir from a floating stream of eggnog. 

And now, there was a Miraculous user in way too over his head. He couldn't have been older than they were, possibly. It was a healthy guess at best with how the glamour worked. 

He was pulling away the ragged scarf around his neck when he froze. "Do you smell that." Oberon asked no one. 

"Smell what?" 

Cat Noir caught the scent as well. "The caramel--Uh, milady, where's the akuma?" 

She looked around and saw no trace of the butterfly. Her eyes widened. Was that cake mound always that big? 

"Get away from that!" she shouted at the paralysed couple. 

The slice of cake shuddered, growing even larger. The frosting fragments solidified, forming a perfect cocoon for a creature with eight too many legs.

It cracked open, revealing a dress of dark blue webs over the body and abdomen of a furious bridesmaid.

"Ah! That feels better..." she chittered with a scratchy voice. The newest akuma flexed her multiple limbs and noticed the scared bride and groom cowering behind a car. "Oh, hey Richard, like the legs? Didn't you use to say those were the most beautiful part of me?" 

"Julia?!" Richard yelled. 

"Richard what is she talking about." 

"I--uh." 

Cat Noir shot Marinette a look that said 'I don't really feel like getting into this mess.' which she replied with a stern look that might as well have said 'Lover's quarrel or not we have to help him,' but in a more colorful tone. 

"Oh Richie, come closer. Didn't you always want to do it in front of her?" Julia webbed his hands. 

"You WHAT?!" 

"Dearie I can--"

"You know what? You can have him!" the bride yelled as she pushed him out of their hiding place. 

"Wha-Amelie?!" A web caught his blazer and began pulling him towards her. "A-Amelie!? Help--HELP!! I can explai--MM!!" But candy webbing shut him up. 

"I'll distract the homewrecker, you get them to safety!" she called out to Cat Noir. 

"You got it!" 

Marinette bound Julia's arms tight with her yoyo while he ripped through the webbing and brought the mildly happy couple somewhere safer. Julia clicked as she watched them disappear behind the rooftops before turning to her. 

"Fine, I suppose I'll start with you first." She pulled back with her eight legs, playing a small game of tug-of-war with her and used it to ram into her. Marinette barely ducked out of the way of the speeding drider and readied her yoyo. It spun once, twice, before it caught something in the air. The thin strands of cotton candy mucked up her weapon and slowly twirled around her like ribbons weaving about a maypole. 

Her earrings beeped. Damn, not now. She pulled the invisible strings aside with a flick of her yoyo, her mind frantically going over all the possible ways she could defeat her. 

She staggered away from a burst of hot air next to her. Black flames seemed to writhed about Oberon, slipping out from under the cracks of his jagged armor. His eyes were locked on the Akuma ahead of them. He slowly stood up. 

**Oh no.** She didn't like that look. "Don't--" 

Too late. In a flash of violet light, he closed the distance between him and the akuma. She caught his fists in hers and struggled to push back against the unrelenting force. Her abdomen shot volley after volley of sticky web to no avail. With a grunt of effort, Julia threw him to the side and punted him back to her with a broken streetlamp. 

Marinette winced as he skidded across the road, leaving blackened gashes across the asphalt. But like a man possessed, he was back on his feet and tore towards Julia.

She had to stop him more than the Akuma at this point. She caught his arm with her yoyo. 

"Oberon!" she yelled before dodging a wad of molasses. "You need to--" but had to let go to dodge a rogue spare tire. 

**CLANG** There he went again, crashing into a car this time. Julia took a page from his book and leapt on him, streetlamp raised high when a black blur knocked her to the side with a deafening **THWACK**

"Sorry it took a while! The happy couple weren't exactly happy," he said as helped Oberon up. "Or a couple...really."

She regrouped with them. "Are you alright?" 

_-beep-_ The flames died down as he leaned on the ruined car for support. 

"I'll take that as a no." Her earrings beeped as well. 

"We don't have much time." said Cat Noir. He watched warily as Julia tore herself free from the concrete and rebar. "Shall we then, milady?" 

"Let's go!" She caught Oberon's eye. " _You_ stay here, alright? You've done enough." and leaped into the fray.

-

Charles clutched his chest. Everything hurt. The weight slowly returned, dragging him down with every passing second. A shadow flew past him, and he watched as Ladybug swung up to catch the leather-clad hero before they found out if cats still landed on their legs if bound by a giant Akumatised spider-person.

Julia hummed above him. His chestpiece tightened. 

"And now the stray pup." The spinnerets on her abdomen clicked and snapped. "I don't know if Hawkmoth wants yours or not, but I might as well make it a three-for-one special!" 

_-beep-_

He spun, knife raised, but it wasn't fast enough. She clutched his head and lifted him up, holding his limbs apart a doll. Her face split in half with her smile. 

"Aw, you have such nice eyes." she cooed. "That's the first thing Amelie noticed in Richard, you know?" 

"Hrngh?" he let out. Her six arms held him tighter than Ladybug's yoyo. A purple outline of a butterfly shown over her face.

"Oh!" she put a finger to her lips. "Hold that thought, hun."

A shadow fell over her face. "Ah. So you're 'Oberon.' " she said with a voice not her own. "So glad we've finally been introduced." 

Charles choked on the miasma that poured out of her mouth. 

"Who are you?" he asked, though the answer was quite literally staring him in the face. Whatever it took to buy more time.

Julia ignored the question, "I must admit, I was worried about you. Another hero ruining my plans." and squeezed him harder. "But you don't even know how to use your Miraculous, do you? Do you even know what it is?" She leaned closer.

"Why don't you leave it with me? For your sake..."

"No--aargh!!" Charles yelped as his bones wiggled wrong as Julia pulled harder. The outline faded away. 

"Now, where would I keep a Miraculous..." she mused. 

"Is it here?" she scraped his long wolf ears. 

"Here?" she tried slipping a finger under his mask.

A glint of a brooch above Charles' chest caught her eyes. "Or..."

_-beepbeep-_

But the light vanished from her face, replaced by the harsh glow of the flames under his chestpiece. She let go before it could reach her hands, and laughed at how quickly it dissipated. 

"Heh, you almost had me-"

-

"Cataclysm!" yelled Cat Noir, tearing the garter around one of the Akuma's legs. 

"No-!" The magic quickly left her, leaving her a dizzy mess as she collapsed on top of the sedan. Marinette spared no time in capturing the Akuma.

"Bye-bye little butterfly!" she whispered, letting the pure white butterfly fly off to wherever it would. It looked good as new, to her relief. And now all that's left,

"Miraculous Ladybug!!"

Her yoyo burst into a cloud of white ladybugs that swirled about and around them. The power of creation flowed through the torn avenue and, to her great relief, everything was back to normal.

Well, almost everything. 

Oberon lay on the ground in front of her. The multiple cuts and gashes along his suit shone in the street light. There have been worse Akumas, ones where they would've been turned into mist if they were in their normal form, and it never ended up this badly for them. 

His breath shuddered. "W-what. Now." 

She jumped down. "You hand over your Miraculous." It wasn't a question. That thing, if she could even call it that, was too dangerous to him and everyone around him. 

"What will you do with it." 

"I'll make sure it's kept safe and secured." 

_-beepbeepbeep-beep!-_

-

The pain persisted as he pulled off the scarf. He turned it over his hands. How many times has he followed its patterns now, he could draw it out with his eyes closed, if he ever learned to draw. 

His grandfather was probably turning in his grave. No wonder he never allowed him near this damned thing, and why he never used it. 

Twy was nowhere to be found. No loud threats or exclamations to break the silence. Charles clutched the middle, giving it one last squeeze, and handed it to Ladybug. 

"Fine," he muttered, avoiding her eyes. "Take care of it for me." 

She took it gently. There was a smile. It wanted to tell him 'Thank you,' he guessed. 

The pavement crunched beneath his shoes. The sun had finally set over Paris, its last rays turning the stray clouds red in the dark blue sky. The heroes swung off to who-knows-where, off to go back to their regular lives until the next Akuma showed up, most likely. His fingers brushed over the smooth metal of the brooch in his pocket. Maybe he should do that too.


	5. Concept Art (skippable)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gotta use my art diploma for something, so here have this sort of quick concept art sheet of our main boi while I bash my figurative head against this fiction wall. Once this fanfic is finished, this chapter will be placed last.

I guess the few things I wanted to show in this concept were the suit and twy, the two things that kinda stumped me in terms of knowing how to describe them. These are just how I see them in my head, however ya'll see it in yours is valid too!

When I first drafted his story, he was supposed to be part of the Order of the Miraculous that came back to Paris after Feast was cleansed, so that would make him almost 100+ years old. That was quickly shelved because that was too complicated and convoluted. I think I wanted him to be sent to take back the Miraculous Box of Master Fu and all the others he granted/lost. But again, too convoluted for the endgame I wanted to reach. 

So, in a modified Peter Parker origin story, we now have our reluctant successor of an accursed miraculous!

There were also several other routes he could've been set on after re-emerging from Feast, one of which was a somewhat grittier version of Paris based on the 2d trailer of Miraculous Ladybug. Quickly scrapped because it read awkward. I didn't want some new rando get sent to a parallel world just because, so I went with adjusting the canon universe just a tiny little bit to give Charlie and the rest of the original cast some leg space.

Twy was (and is, as of writing this) sort of a challenge to write, because one wrong move and he just comes off as an edgier Plagg. I'm not entirely sure if I have avoided that, but that's something I am trying to avoid when writing what dialogue I've written for the lil kwami.

Giving Charles a dagger/knife/switchblade as a Miraculous weapon was a weird choice, thinking back, but it was the only thing that fitted with his transformation. The illustrations above were my playing around with the possible shapes of it, since it was never specified (as far as I remember) in the fic. Also I didn't want him to have another stick-like weapon. We've already got Cat Noir's baton, Rena's flute, and Hawkmoth's cane. I played with simple shapes, optimized for a knife's purpose, to wacky ones for that fantasy edge. I personally enjoyed sketching up the shattered one on the bottom right.

In addition, a knife contrasts heavily with the yoyo and baton in not only in having an edge, but in the way that there really isn't that much room for creativity with it. Really, there isn't much space for brilliant ideas with Oberon other than hack and slash, which makes (or made) writing these fights a fun challenge. [this was written just after chapter 4 so 'fun challenge' might become 'why did i curse myself with this' in the next chapters.] {this paragraph's reasoning is subject to change}


	6. A Night at WcDonalds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Where Charles finds himself with friends at a WcDonalds

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thrilling stuff, I know

a/n: splits off the canon timeline.

And so the sun had set on another day in Paris. Tomorrow would see the last of Amelie's moving boxes go with her on her trip to learning how to be single and living with her parents in the countryside, while Richard would be left to quickly re-learn how to cook instant noodles and work the washing machine again. Julia would come over to help, of course, and in two weeks she'd wake up in his bed with her panties hanging on a ceiling fan. 

But that's neither here nor there.

A few hours past midnight, Charles found himself at the Wacky D's by Champs-Élysées, its classic 'I'm liking this!' chime ringing in the air. His feet hurt. After Ladybug and Catnoir had left him he had been walking just about anywhere. It felt like the only sane thing to do, given the events of this afternoon. A dull pain skittered all over bones. He couldn't get their eyes out of his head. His mind scrambled through the memories trying to think of all the should-have's he could have done. Maybe if he had been quicker, if he saw that leg coming, maybe things might have been different. 

Twy popped out of his collar, humming contentedly to himself as the little thing sucked up the dark cloud of emotions from the crowd lining up. "Aah, such a wonderful night, isn't it, Charlie?" 

"It could be better," His stomach grumbled in response too. The smell of cheap fries and greasy burgers might as well have been heaven-sent for him. 

"Aw, what's wrong? Did Ladybug get to you?" 

"No, I--" Where should he start? "Twy, what did we do." 

"You were a superhero! Why, isn't that what you wanted?" 

"No I wanted to--" 

"Stop the akuma before it got worse! Just like a hero does! Oh, you've finally lived your dream, Charlie! How does it feel? I bet it hurts like a bitch, doesn't it?" 

"Charlie? Holy shit is that you?" A familiar face shoved her hand to his forehead from out of the crowd before he could react. "Where were you?! We thought you died or something. Everyone's been worried." said Remi. She had her 'casual date' dress sweater on in a Wacky D's. Oh no.

"Really?" He pulled her hand away. "We hung out a couple of days ago." 

"It's been two weeks. Hey." She grabbed his wrist. "Ya wanna join me and some friends? We're doing a food review for her blool project--school project." 

_Sure, a school project._ "At a Wacky D's?"

 _It really is this time!_ "Yeah?"

 _Uh-huh._ "Why?"

"Where else are you gonna get Ladyburgers and Fry Noirs?" she said as she led him back to her place in line, to the disgruntlement of the other customers. He held his breath.

Her friend glared from under her thick shades as Remi wedged herself back in line. 

"I'm back!" she announced half to her friend and half to the digruntled crowd. "Aand we have a new member! Charles, meet Alyaallie. Allie. She's--ah--a food blogger." 

"Hello Allie." He shook her hand and shot Remi a look that said: 'You took her to Wacky D's?!' which she understood as: 'Bless your saintly soul, I am forever in your debt.' 

"Hi Charles, sup?" 

"Uh, thank you so much for being Remi's friend. My soul already feels lighter." 

She chuckled as Remi elbowed his rib. "You're welcome? But I've only just met her, she's a friend of a friend who's running late. Again." she checked her phone. "We were supposed to review the Ladyburgers and Fry Noirs together, actually." She stifled a yawn.

"They got delayed for a month due to 'licensing and quality' issues," continued Remi, "The calories were too much or something--soo we-plus-you get to be the first to try them out!" 

"It's four in the morning."

"It's like an early," she blinked. "Breakfast. Come on, my treat."

"Are you sure? You're already paying for my meal too." said Allie.

Remi did a strangled cough. "Yeah, it's fine! It's not everyday we get to enjoy some limited edition fast food at an ungodly hour." 

"The promo period's three months..." he noticed. 

"It's not everyday we get to be the _first_ to experience limited edition fast food at an ungodly hour!" 

Might as well go with it, he had a sworn duty to stop her from being a mess with her first impressions after all. "Oh, yeah," He forced a smile, "That sounds great?" 

It wasn't.

"What the fu--" Remi choked as she tried to swallow a dry mouthful of Ladyburger which was just a regular Wacky Burger with a Ladybug-themed wrapper and a polka-dotted patty. She took a swig of her cup of Carapade, green-flavoured Gatorade, and washed down the lump in her throat. "Uhwargh! I think I can still taste the food coloring..."

"Well..." Allie winced at her phone. "At least half the price is going to charity..." she said as she gave up on finishing her burger and tried the pitch-black fries. Her face screwed in disappointment, and she squeezed the rest of the ketchup packets on them.

"Ookay, maybe there was a reason why it was delayed." she turned the camera to Remi.

She stared at the camera, the light leaving her eyes as she took a bite of the Fry Noir coated in ketchup, and shook her head. "Charlie? What about you?

The camera panned to Charles, blessed by the fastfood gods, happily eating his mildly tastier burger with fries layered in the middle. He gave them a shrug. It was alright, all things considered. 

"Well, at least someone's happy." Allie pointed the camera at herself. "And that's about it. As usual, WcDonalds never fails to remind you that it's still the same fastfood chain. You might like it, you probably won't, either way it's going to a good cause. Catch all you ladybloggers later, peace!" 

Remi stared in disbelief at the half-eaten burger, the life draining away from her skin as soon as Allie put down her phone. She sighed dejectedly and took a sad bite out of her wacky meal. "I'm..." she considered her next words carefully in fear of being smited by the Wacky Wally statue by the door. Resigning her tastebuds to the bland burger hidden beneath its sauce, she finished it. "Mm." 

"Word." replied Allie, finishing the last of her fries. "Never thought WcDonald's burgers would actually make someone lose their faith in humanity."

Despite the recent culinary let-down, Remi managed to flip up her hair and flash her newfound friend a weak grin. "Good thing it was a disappointment with friends, eh?" 

Charles could almost feel the charm trying to scratch the fine porcelain. He nudged her leg as he tried to change the subject-- "Wait," Hang on a minute, did she just say ladybloggers? "Are you Alya Cesaire?" 

"The one and only!" Allie lowered her shades for a moment and winked at him, revealing that indeed she was THE Alya Cesaire of Ladyblog fame. No idea how he missed that almost trademark button-up beneath her blue denim jacket. 

"Really took you that long, huh?" quipped Remi as she nudged him back. 

"You told me it was a school project thing. And it's four am." 

"And?" she raised an eyebrow as she tried to eat another fry. "Would you have come along if I told you I was on a secret Wacky Meal mission?" 

"Yes, because I'm fuc--godda--. I'm starving." In any case, he swallowed the rest of his burger to wipe his hands, "S-sorry. It's nice to meet you, M-Ms. Cesaire!" And reached across the table in warm greeting. "My granpa always loved your site." 

Alya laughed and shook his hand again. " 'The pleasure's all mine, Mr. Charlie.' " she replied with a faux accent. "Good to know that my totally-for-school content really is all-ages. Send him my regards?"

Charles froze for the briefest of moments, his voice caught in his throat. "S-sure! I will." 

Remi saw him glance her way and she speedrunned downing the last of her Carapade. _Pwah!_ "By the way, Alya! I know this is coming a little late, but that's a really great fit on your jacket, is it custom?"

"Yeah! Thanks, Marinette actually made it for my birthday like a year ago,"

"No way, she did?!"

"Yeah, bought the fabric and everything. Pretty cool right?" 

"It's fucking amazing! Can I...Can I feel a sleeve?" 

"Sure, sure." Alya laughed again and extended an arm. "Here," 

Remi tried to keep a straight face as she felt the fabric. "You sure she didn't weave this from scratch too? I dont think I've seen this kind anywhere in the city." 

"You know, I wouldnt be surprised if she did. University's only made her and her caffeine tolerance stronger--" Alya's phone started ringing. "Oh, speaking of--Hey girl! Did you like the stream?"

"Oh, hi Marinette! We were just talking about you!" Remi greeted before turning to Charles. "Hey Charlie, do you want a custom made jacket this year-- "

"Like a raincoat?" 

"Hi guys--I'm really sorry! I got caught up with something at the bakery and the next thing I knew you were going live and--Eep!" 

"I was thinking more of the proper smart casual kind, how long're your arms?" 

"Damn, are you alright? We can just meet you on the way back," 

"Sorry, sorry! Here, I'll hel--" 

"You really aren't missing out gurl," 

"Long enough--er--should we go get her?" 

"I dunno, it looks like she's in a pair of jeans." 

"--ine--I'm fine! I'm fine, it was just a couple moving out. Phew! I'm almost there! I can see that dumb clown's goofy smile!" 

Wacky D's glass doors scraped open as a young lady in a pastel pink coat stormed through the fast food floor with phone in hand. "Hey Alya! Remi!" 

"Mari!! You finally made it!" Remi waved her over. "We saved you a Wacky Meal!" 

"Thanks!" she sighed in relief as she took her seat. She wiped the sweat off her forehead. 

"So, how was the marathon?" asked Alya as she slid a Special Wacky Meal to her. 

"Won a gold medal in break-up box lifting, if you must know, thanks." 

"Don't expect much. Wacky D's skimped out again." 

"Eurgh, that bad?" 

"I'd say underwhelming, but at least the green-flavoured gatorade's okay." said Remi.

"Does this say Carapade? I don't remember signing--them announcing this." 

"I think it's WcDonald's apology for the delays, that's my coping mechanism. " 

"Well as long as it's eatablugh--" Marinette's eyes suddenly locked on to him. 

He squirmed in his seat. "Uh, hi, I'm Charles." 

"Uwa?!" Marinette kicked the table and nearly threw her burger to the side, startling the three of them. "It's you!??" 

"Have-have we met!?" 

Her eyes bounced between him, Remi, and a stack of Wacky Pancakes off in the distance. "er-Don't you work at the cat cafe on Rue--er--Sedaine?" 

"No?" 

"Or a cafe in general?" 

"Charlie? Working part-time?" Remi chuckled. "Over his parents' graves." 

"Sorry, no. I don't think we've ever met."

"Oh, uh, I must've mistaken you for someone else, hehe." Marinette released the death grip she had on her burger to stand and reach across the table. "I'm Marinette, sorry about that." 

Slowly recovering from the shock, he shook it with a smile. "No worries. It's nice to meet you, Marinette." 

-

In another part of Paris, somewhere after sunset, Marinette rapped her knuckles on the guardian's apartment door. "Master, Master Fu? Are you there? It's Marinette!" 

There was a clatter behind the door, followed by some the creaking of wooden floorboards and the sound of 5 too many locks clicking. And the door opened a bit, revealing the pajama clad old man with a night cap. He rubbed his eyes. "Marinette? What's the matter? I was just about to go to bed." 

"Sorry, but I found another Miraculous, Master." she whispered, just in case Hawkmoth was listening in from the laundry basket of a woman who walked past. "Can I come in?"

At that his eyes lit up. He drew her inside and prepared some tea. 

Wayzz, the turtle kwami, rested on the living room table. "What do you mean you 'found' a Miraculous, Marinette?" 

"This." She pulled out the folded garment and held it in front of him. "We came across another Miraculous user today and he caused more problems than the akuma." 

Something was troubling Wayzz. He ran a paw across the fabric, his eyes following a trail only he could see. "Marinette, what did you say this user looked like?" 

"Like a wolf? A flaming wolf with a knife, if that makes any sense? But there aren't any wolf miraculouses missing in the box, right?" 

"No. Nor is there one with us in the first place. But. Hmm. I recognize this residue of energies." A shadow seemed to grow over Wayzz's diminuative features as Master Fu came back with a hot kettle of tea and sat across her. "I hope I'm wrong." 

"Why can't we ask the kwami itself, then?" She poked the scarf. 

Pulling out his reading glasses, he leaned closer. "Ah, this is just a scarf, Marinette." 

"What!?" She felt her heart race uncomfortably. "But. No! He gave it..." and that's when it dawned on her. "He gave it to me after giving it a small hug goodbye. He must have taken it then!" She ruffled through the fabric, found the almost imperceptible slot in the middle, and almost banged the table. "That liar!" 

She shot up, nearly sending the fine china clattering. "I-I need to find him! He couldn't have gone far, I can still--" but her voice faltered. There was no way. Paris was just too big. Marinette slumped back down and carefully sipped some tea, thinking of her next move. It was a snowball's chance in hell that she'd come across that rando again as a civilian, even worse chances as Ladybug. 

Another dangerous Miraculous is out there, and it's her fault.

Fuck. She felt horrible. 

Tikki piped up. "It's Twy, Wayzz. There's no doubt about it." and then turned to Marinette. "I'm sorry Marinette. I should've told you sooner but I wasn't sure." 

"It's alright, Tikki." Marinette watched the tea leaves swirl in the water. She looked up to Fu. "Master, who's Twy?"

But he was as confused as she was. "The name is not familiar, unfortunately." 

"I would have been more surprised if you knew, Master." Wayzz glaced at Tikki, unsure if he should continue. And with a deep sigh, he did. "And...Twy was, or still is, a juvenile kwami. Think of him as one of our youngest siblings, unruly, mischievous, a general nuisance...and dangerous. Well, all Miraculouses are dangerous if they fall into the wrong hands, that's a given. But he brings ruin no matter what his Master's intentions are. I'm sure you saw that for yourself." 

"Yeah." She could still smell the acrid scent of burning sugar if she focused hard enough. "So why would the Order send him away then, wouldn't it've been safer to keep him hidden?" 

"They wanted to teach him how to be kind, and they found a chance." continued Tikki. "You see, a group of travellers came across the monastery one night during a harsh blizzard. The monks opened their doors to them, and through the coming weeks of isolation they became good friends. So, several of the masters had an idea." 

"To just give them a Miraculous??" 

"Well, they never said it was a Miraculous! They wanted Twy to experience the world and all its love unconditionally, so all the travellers knew was that it was a good-luck charm that was also home to a shy little spirit." 

"So they were tricked."

Tikki deflated at that. "...Yes...they were." 

"I see..." Master Fu refilled his cup. "If they made it back down the mountain, Twy would hopefully 'mature.' "

"And if they didn't..." Marinette stopped that train of thought. "So what can we do now? This Twy and his master are out and about in Paris, and I can't just put out Wanted posters for 'a young man that used to have a scarf,' that's like 40% of Paris." 

"He said he wanted to help stop the akuma, right?" asked Tikki. "We can probably wait until the next one to see if he'll show up!" 

"Yeah, who knows how long that's going to take, though..." She finished the last of her tea. "Thanks for the tea, Master Fu. Sorry for disturbing you!"

"Don't worry about it," he waved it off, "Call it old age but I feel wide-awake again." 

She didn't know how to react to that, frankly. "Thank you too, Wayzz."

"You're more than welcome, Marinette." he bowed. "Oh, and before I forget...I must tell you that Twy's power is akin to a Cataclysm. Please, do not let him use it." 

Marinette's grip on the door tightened. "I will."

And with that, Marinette and Tikki bid their goodbyes and made their way back home. There were too many things happening tonight and not enough time or instant coffee packs to get through them. Looking for Twy and that master would have to wait.

One corrupted save file, a baker's dozen of souffles (excluding failures), and the crashing into messy break-up move later, Marinette found herself staring at the young man beside Remi. That snowball's chance in hell was examining each fry he ate and now he was shaking her hand like it was nothing! 

"No worries. It's nice to meet you, Marinette." 

She squeezed his hand longer than usual, and smiled politely. "It's good to meet you too, 'Charlie.' " 


End file.
